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A  HOPELESS   CASE 


BY 

EDGAR   FAWCETT 


BOSTON 
HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN   AND    COMPANY 

iSSo 


Copyright,  1S80, 
By  EDGAR   FAWCETT. 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE: 

STEREOTYPED     AND     PRINTED     BY 

H.    O.    HOUGHTON    AND   COMPANY. 


A    HOPELESS    CASE. 


I. 


^^iJ^HE   American  spirit,   as   it  is    called, 


has  a  contempt  for  time's  hallowing 
influences.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  be- 
lieve that  time  cannot  hallow,  but  can  only 
destroy.  Not  many  years  ago  Lafayette  Place 
was  one  of  the  most  imposing  patrician  quar- 
ters of  New  York.  The  clamors  of  Broad- 
way came  to  it  only  in  a  dreamy  murmur. 
Its  length  was  not  great,  but  it  had  a  lordly 
breadth.  Within  easiest  access  of  the  most 
busy  purlieus,  its  quietude  was  proverbial. 
So  infrequent  were  vehicles  along  its  pave 
ments,  that  in  summer  the  grass  would  often 

206165O 


2  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

crop  out  there  like  fringy  scrollwork,  near 
the  well-swept  sidewalks  and  cleanly  gutters. 
At  one  end,  where  this  stately  avenue  is 
crossed  by  a  narrower  street,  rose  an  im- 
mense granite  church,  in  rigid  classical  style, 
with  the  pointed  roof  of  an  ancient  temple, 
and  immense  gray  fluted  pillars  forming  its 
portico.  This  church  is  still  standing,  but 
near  it  looms  a  monstrous  brick  building 
that  one  glance  can  tell  us  is  a  third-rate 
caravansary  of  a  boarding-house,  where  peo- 
ple with  characters  as  dingy  as  the  window- 
panes  ma)^,  perhaps,  gain  facile  admission. 
The  boarding-house  was  once  a  fine  private 
mansion,  and  has  been  enlarged  into  its  pres- 
ent dreary  bigness.  Then,  at  this  southern 
end,  stood,  until  a  very  short  time  ago,  the 
gray  old  grandeur  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  where, 
for  nearly  half  a  century,  the  blooming  brides 
of  our  ''  best  families  "  were  married,  and  their 
fathers  and  mothers  lay  in  funeral  state  as  the 
years    rolled   on.     At   the   northern  end  was 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  3 

once  a  spacious  dwelling-house,  whose  oaken 
hall,  with  its  richly  mediaeval  carvings  and 
brilliant  window  of  stained  glass,  might  well 
have  served  for  some  antique  abbey  oversea. 
But  this  delightful  old  house  has  disappeared, 
and  a  vast  brick  structure,  which  is  one  of 
those  towering  altars  that  we  so  often  build 
to  commerce,  has  sprung  up  in  its  stead. 
There  was  also  a  certain  edifice  closely  adja- 
cent to  this,  which  had  a  porte  cochere,  in  the 
real  Parisian  style,  and  supplied  a  delightful 
touch  of  foreign  novelty.  But  that,  too,  has 
disappeared  ;  like  the  house  with  the  charming 
cloisteral  hall,  its  very  quaintness  was  its  ruin. 
If  our  New  York  buildings  cannot  always  have 
the  supreme  advantage  of  representing  trade, 
they  are  at  least  diligent  in  their  devotion  to 
ugliness. 

But  Lafayette  Place  is  somehow  Lafayette 
Place  still.  Its  transformation  into  cheap  lodg- 
ments is  gradual,  though  sure.  The  siege  goes 
steadily  on,  but  the  besieged  has  not  yet  sue- 


4  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

cumbed.  Every  year  the  handsome  family- 
carriages  that  roll  up  and  down  its  avenue 
g/o\v  fewer  and  fewer ;  every  year  its  pave- 
ments, worn  by  the  feet  of  dead  and  gone 
Knickerbockers,  are  more  frequented  by  shab- 
by Germans  or  slatternly  Irish.  But  the  solid 
solemnity  of  the  Astor  Library  still  draws 
scholars  and  bookworms  within  its  precinct, 
though  the  dignity  of  possessing  the  Columbia 
Law  School,  into  which  slim,  bright-faced  col- 
legians would  once  troop  of  a  morning,  has 
now  departed  forever.  And  a  few  abodes  are 
still  to  be  found  here,  with  the  burnished  door- 
plates  and  the  glimpses  of  rich  inner  tapestries 
that  point  toward  wealthful  prosperity. 

In  one  of  these  houses  there  lived,  not  long 
ago,  a  certain  elderly  widow  and  her  brother. 
The  lady's  name  was  Mrs.  Russell  Leroy,  and 
she  was  fond  of  always  retaining  this  courtesy- 
:itle,  though  death  had  deprived  her  of  legal 
right  to  it.  Her  late  husband  had  held  much 
social   distinction  ;    they    had    often    traveled 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  5 

abroad  together,  when  traveUng  abroad  was  a 
rarer  American  luxury  than  it  is  to-day,  and 
they  had  been  famed  for  their  transatlantic 
sympathies  and  their  tendency  to  underrate 
most  native  commodities,  at  a  time  when  such 
dainty  depreciation  had  by  no  means  come 
widely  into  vogue.  They  had  thrown  open  a 
palatial  house  to  throngs  of  guests,  but  always 
with  so  circumspect  an  avoidance  of  forming 
"undesirable"  connections,  that  the  feet  which 
crossed  their  threshold  had  been  held  excep- 
tionally favored.  The  late  Mr.  Russell  Leroy 
had  acquired  the  reputation  of  being  a  prodig- 
ious snob  ;  but  he  incorrigibly  gloried  in  this 
distinction,  and  only  went  on  "sifting"  till  the 
period  of  his  death  with  more  and  more  stren- 
uous vigilance.  His  loss  had  been  an  immense 
blow  to  Mrs.  Leroy.  She  was  a  slim  lady,  of 
elegant  figure,  excessively  blonde,  with  cold, 
firm  features,  and  pale  gray  eyes,  whose  lids 
had  a  haughty  droop.  She  was  not  handsome, 
but  she  never  came  nearer  being  so  than  when 


6  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

draped  in  her  mourning  robes,  which  she  car- 
ried with  an  air  of  having  sustained  some  spe- 
cially important  bereavement  that  no  persons 
of  the  proper  sort  could  underestimate.  A  few 
months  after  her  widowhood,  she  went  to  live 
with  her  bachelor  brother,  Mr.  Rivington  Van 
Corlear,  at  the  old  family  mansion  in  Lafayette 
Place.  She  was  now  about  five-and-forty  years 
of  age,  and  her  brother  was  about  three  years 
her  senior.  Rivington  Van  Corlear  had  been 
a  society  beau  in  his  day,  and  his  liberal  in- 
herited income  had  perhaps  helped  to  make 
him  a  very  successful  one.  He  had  grown 
stout  of  late  years,  and  inseparably  attached 
to  a  select  club,  of  which  he  was  a  prominent 
member.  He  had  a  magnificent  presence,  his 
recent  acquirement  of  flesh  not  at  all  marring 
the  fine  harmony  of  breadth  and  height  that 
gave  his  form  a  princely  grandeur.  He  wore 
a  heavy  iron-gray  moustache,  and  his  hair  was 
almost  white  about  the  temples.  He  was 
really   a    superb-looking    fellow ;    you    could 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  7 

easily  fancy  him  blazing  with  decorations  at 
some  foreign  court.  But  when  he  opened  his 
lips  the  illusion  ended.  He  spoke  with  a 
mellow,  pleasant  intonation,  almost  English 
enough  to  deceive  an  unpracticed  ear  into  be- 
heving  him  an  Englishman.  But  he  talked 
little  else  than  current  gossip,  always  having 
the  latest  scandal  at  his  tongue's  end,  and  be- 
ing an  infallible  authority  on  just  how  matters 
had  gone  off  at  the  last  fashionable  polo-game 
or  pigeon-match.  It  is  probable  that  he  had 
not  read  ten  books  through  in  as  many  years, 
and  that  those  were  only  novels  of  the  lightest 
texture.  He  was  a  wonderfully  adroit  card- 
player,  and  often  played  far  into  the  night  at 
his  club.  He  had  a  great  many  friends,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  and  these  vied  with  each  other 
in  singing  his  praises.  It  was  the  fashion  to 
consider  him  a  model  gentleman,  a  man  of 
flawless  honor  and  supreme  respectability. 
They  had  made  him  one  of  their  club-gov- 
ernors, and  had   kept  on  reelecting  him  year 


8  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

after  year  to  the  position,  with  flattering  per- 
tinacity. He  was  eulogized  more  than  he 
knew ;  when  he  crossed  the  soft-carpeted  club 
floors,  looking  a  picture  of  stately  ease,  groups 
of  admirers  would  whisper:  "There  goes  a 
splendid  fellow"  —  "He's  one  of  the  good 
old  stock" — "A  remnant  of  the  old  Knicker- 
bocker days." 

Beyond  doubt  Mrs.  Leroy  had  taken  her 
brother's  measure  a  good  many  years  ago. 
She  was  far  too  clever  a  woman  not  to  have  at 
least  reached  some  covert  state  of  conviction 
that  Rivington  was  one  of  the  most  success- 
ful fools  who  ever  put  on  false  colors  before 
a  credulous  community.  But  then  he  enjoyed 
the  priceless  advantage  of  being,  like  herself, 
a  Van  Corlear  ;  that  alone  gave  him  a  kind  of 
brevet  rank  far  above  the  commoner  represent- 
atives of  his  species.  She  had  always  swayed 
him  without  difficulty  in  the  days  when  they 
had  lived  at  home  together,  before  their  par- 
ents' decease  and  her  own  marriage,  and  she 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  g 

held  the  leading  place,  now,  in  their  pres- 
ent household  arrangements.  She  never  con- 
sidered his  advice  worth  asking  for,  though 
she  often  had  the  tact  to  seem  as  if  she  were 
desiring  it.  Rivington  fancied  his  influence 
over  her  to  be  quite  a  noteworthy  force, 
which  was  only  another  proof  of  how  neatly 
she  had  learned  to  rule  him.  There  is  no 
such  complete  captivity  as  that  which  believes 
itself  freedom. 

Mrs.  Leroy  had  recently  held  with  her 
brother  a  discussion  much  more  serious  than 
any  which  usually  took  place  betv.-een  them, 
and  here  Rivington  had  been  troubled  by  no 
doubts  re2:ardin2^  the  value  of  his  counsel. 

They  were  seated  at  dessert  together  ;  the 
servants  had  retired,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
large  oak-paneled  dining-room  gleamed  a  ta- 
ble richly  loaded  with  crystal  wine-flasks,  fili- 
greed  silver,  and  vari-colored  fruits.  Riving- 
ton was  in  full  evening  dress,  as  he  invariably 
dined,  and  looked  majestically  handsome.    Mrs. 


10  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Leroy  sat,  dark-robed,  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  the  light  from  the  chandelier  lending 
her  delicate  face  a  youth  of  which  sunshine 
might  have  robbed  it,  and  steahng  an  occa- 
sional flicker  from  the  yellowish  tresses  coiled 
about  her  small,  graceful  head.  There  had 
been  a  little  silence  between  them,  as  often 
happened  ;  but  now  that  they  were  quite  alone, 
Mrs.  Leroy  tranquilly  said :  — 

"  That  letter  from  those  Wolverton  people, 
Rivington,  has  worried  me  a  good  deal." 

''Yes,  yes,"  said  Rivington  stroking  his 
moustache.  "  I  've  thought  over  it  all  day." 
(He  had  not  thought  of  it  once  that  day  ;  he 
had  spent  the  morning  at  his  Wall  Street 
broker's  anc^  the  afternoon  at  whist.)  "Our 
cousin,  Agnes  Wolverton,  requests  our  pro- 
tection. I  suppose  we  ought  to  give  it.  Her 
l^arents  are  both  dead,  and  the  father's  rel- 
atives, with  whom  she  has  always  lived,  are 
going  to  migrate  somewhere  into  the  West  ; 
that  was  about  what  she  wrote  you,  was  it  not .''  " 


A   //OPE LESS   CASE.  I  I 

continued  Rivington,  recapitulating.  "  How 
old  did  we  make  her  out  to  be,  Augusta  ? " 

"  Eighteen,  Rivington.  Her  letter  has 
greatly  prepossessed  me  in  her  favor.  There 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  offer  her  a 
home  —  for  a  little  time,  at  least.  She  has 
some  slight  fortune  of  her  own,  which  will 
prevent  her  from  having  any  awkward  feeling 
of  dependence." 

"  So  she  wants  to  come  and  live  with  us  }  " 
said  Rivington,  musingly.  "Well,  I  suppose 
there  is  no  objection.     Let  the  girl  come." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Leroy. 
She  had  already  made  up  her  mind  that  Agnes 
Wolverton  should  come  to  Lafayette  Place. 
Her  mother  had  made  a  fric^htful  marriacre, 
and  had  drifted  away  from  her  own  people  — 
Mrs.  Leroy's  near  kindred  —  in  consequence 
of  such  a  rank  misdemeanor.  But  this  Agnes 
had  the  Van  Corlear  blood  in  her  veins,  and 
Mrs.  Leroy  devoutly  respected  the  Van  Coi- 
lear  blood,  even  when  in  a  state  of  plebeian  di- 


12  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

lution.  Her  feelings  toward  her  young  cous- 
in took  the  form  of  an  actual  conscientious 
yearning. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  advise  me  to  offer 
her  a  home  here,"  she  now  said.  And  Riv- 
ington's  white  hand  again  wandered  toward 
his  gray  moustache,  with  a  pleased  sense  that 
its  owner  had  finally  settled  the  whole  affair. 

"  She  has  been  living  in  Brooklyn,  I  think 
you  said,  Augusta." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Leroy. 

The  brother  and  sister  exchanged  a  signifi- 
cant glance  across  their  sumptuous  dessert- 
table.  Brooklyn  was  a  sort  of  Kamschatka 
to  both  of  them.  They  admitted  its  existence, 
as  a  remote  portion  of  the  globe  inhabited  by 
obscure  nobodies.  There  were  a  few  families 
"  whom  one  knew "  that  had  eccentrically 
chosen  Brooklyn  Heights  as  their  place  of 
residence ;  but  the  rest  of  the  great  city 
merely  held  thousands  of  inferior  beings  that 
were  of  no  earthly  consequence  in  the  gen- 
eral scheme  of  things. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 3 

"We  may  find  her  terrible  style,  and  all 
that,"  gently  resumed  Mrs.  Leroy  ;  "  but  at 
her  susceptible  age  a  little  training  will  do 
wonders." 

"We  shall  have  to  bring  her  out,"  said  Riv-. 
ington  Van  Corlear. 

Mrs.  Leroy's  placid  eyes  glanced  down  at 
her  own  mourning  garments.  She  had  been 
seven  years  a  widow.  Of  course  the  wound 
had  healed  ;  it  was  now  only  a  decorous  me- 
morial scar.  She  could  still  wear  dark  colors, 
—  they  became  her  blonde  type  so  admirably. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  little  silence,  dur- 
ing which  her  brother  remained  on  the  alert 
for  her  acquiescent  response,  "we  shall  have 
to  brinGf  her  out,  Rivins^ton." 

About  a  fortnight  later  Miss  Agnes  Wol- 
verton  made  her  appearance  in  Lafayette 
Place.  It  was  now  the  latter  portion  of  No- 
vember. Mrs.  Leroy  had  called  upon  her 
Brooklyn  kinswoman  ;  but  on  the  special  day 
of  her  visit  Miss  Wolverton  had  not  been  at 


14  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

home.  Afterward  several  letters  were  ex- 
changed between  the  two  ladies,  and  at  length 
a  certain  day  had  arrived  when  Mrs.  Leroy's 
guest  had  made  her  appearance. 

Agnes  Wolverton  was  a  girl  of  medium 
stature,  with  a  fresh,  frank  face,  light-blue  eyes, 
and  black,  slightly-waved  hair.  Mrs.  Leroy 
at  once  pronounced  her  pretty.  The  arrival 
took  place  at  about  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. Rivington  was  making  his  evening 
toilette  at  the  time,  but  he  entered  the  draw- 
ing-room a  little  later,  and  found  his  sister  and 
Agnes  awaiting  him  there. 

Rivington  at  once  looked  at  his  sister,  after 
the  needful  introduction  had  taken  place,  and 
at  once  decided  that  Mrs.  Leroy  was  laboring 
under  some  sort  of  unpleasant  surprise. 

*'  She  has  been  disappointed,"  mentally  con- 
cluded Rivington  ;  and  then,  under  cover  of 
the  most  blameless  courtesy,  he  made  a  very 
searching  examination  of  the  new-comer. 

"  You  have  mostly  lived  in  Brooklyn,"  he 
said  to  Agnes. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 5 

"  She  has  always  Uved  in  Brooklyn,"  broke 
in  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"  I  have  only  been  in  New  York  three  times 
before  now,"  said  Agnes.  Her  manner  and 
accent  had  a  decisive  repose  ;  but  it  was  nei- 
ther the  manner  nor  the  accent  to  which  Riv- 
ington  Van  Corlear  had  somehow  been  accus- 
tomed. 

They  presently  went  in  to  dinner.  Riving- 
ton  offered  his  arm  to  Agnes  with  an  exquisite 
grace.  She  accepted  it  with  a  sort  of  stiff 
astonishment.  "Tell  us  about  Brooklyn,"  said 
Mrs.  Leroy's  brother,  socially,  when  they  were 
seated. 

Agnes  laughed.  She  showed  white,  perfect 
teeth  in  doing  so,  and  her  laugh  was  sweetly 
musical.     "  What  shall  I  tell }  "  she  asked. 

"  My  brother  means  the  society  there,"  ex- 
plained Mrs.  Leroy,  in  sweet  tones. 

"Yes,"  said  Rivington,  ''the  society.  How 
do  the  people  amuse  themselves .?  Do  they 
have  balls,  parties,  receptions,  kettle-drums, 
and  all  that .? " 


1 6  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Agnes  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  They 
have  evening  entertainments,"  she  presently 
said,  with  a  demure  touch  in  her  voice.  *'  But 
I  have  never  been  to  many  of  them.  I  am 
not  fond  of  going.  And  then  I  was  not  in- 
vited to  many,"  she  addec^  with  calm  candor. 
"  We  lived  so  quietly." 

"  We  are  going  to  cultivate  your  taste  for 
gayety,"  said  Rivington.  "  At  least  my  sister 
is." 

"  I  have  no  taste  for  gayety,"  returned  Ag- 
nes, with  a  direct  glance  at  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"  Oh,  wait  till  you  have  seen  a  little,"  laughed 
Rivington. 

A  softly  distressed  look  overspread  Agnes's 
face.  "  Does  gayety  mean  balls  and  parties  .'^  " 
she  asked. 

Rivington  laughed.  "  It  means  having  a 
fine  time,"  he  said,  —  "  seeing  the  best  sort  of 
people,  and  what  is  going  on  in  the  world." 

"  I  want  to  see  the  best  sort  of  people," 
said  Agnes.  "  That  was  one  of  my  great  rea- 
sons for  wishing  to  live  in  New  York." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  ly 

The  words  had  a  peculiar,  puzzled  ring.  Ag- 
nes had  lowered  her  eyes  as  she  spoke  them. 
Mrs.  Leroy  let  an  unconscious  smile  edge  her 
clear-cut  lips.  She  had  made  her  cousin's 
coming  a  reason  for  the  abandonment  of 
anything  like  pronounced  mourning  attire. 
She  wore  a  gown  of  dull  black  silk  that  was 
trimmed  in  some  intricate,  glittering  way  with 
a  comminglement  of  rare  black  lace  and  jet  ; 
she  was  dressed  with  irreproachable  taste ; 
and  it  struck  her  that  Agnes  Wolverton  was 
dressed  with  no  taste  whatever.  Not  that  the 
young  lady  had  a  gleam  of  coarseness  in  her 
sombre,  inconspicuous  attire  ;  but  then,  as 
Mrs.  Leroy  had  some  time  ago  quite  rapidly 
and  inflexibly  decided,  everything  that  her 
new  protegee  wore  wanted  radical  alteration. 
"The  best  sort  of  people,"  according  to  Mrs. 
Leroy's  views,  must  never  be  approached  un- 
der these  infelicitous  conditions  of  costume. 

"  We  will  do  all  that  we  can  to  gratify  your 
wish,  my  dear,"  she  gently  answered.    "  I  have 

2 


1 8  A   HOPELESS  CASE 

been  in  mourning  for  several  years,  as  I  told 
you ;  I  have  not  gone  about  at  all.  But  I 
mean  to  make  a  little  sacrifice"  (here  Mrs. 
Leroy  suppressed  a  soft  sigh)  "  and  take  you 
everywhere.  But  we  will  speak  of  this  here- 
after, my  dear  Agnes.  It  is  needless  to  hurry 
matters." 

At  the  conclusion  of  dinner,  Rivington  and 
his  sister  found  an  opportunity  of  exchanging 
a  few  private  words  together. 

''What  do  you  think  of  her?"  asked  Mrs. 
Leroy. 

"  She  has  a  rather  pleasant  face,"  said  Riv- 
ington, as  he  lit  his  cigarette  ;  "  but  oh  !  by 
Jove,  she  's  frightfully  slow." 

**  That  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,"  said  his 
sister.     "  Wait  till  I  transform  her." 

"  Is  she  going  to  stand  transformation,  Au- 
gusta } " 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  quickly,  so  that  the  fire- 
light near  by  sent  a  rich  flash  from  the  dark 
s[)lendors   of   her   raiment.      "  Stand   it,    Riv- 


A   HOPELESS   CASE. 


19 


ington  ? "  she  murmured.  "  Why,  what  an 
absurd  idea  !  " 

A  little  later  Mrs.  .Leroy  went  to  her 
cousin's  chamber.  She  found  Agnes  engaged 
in  unpacking  her  trunks. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  amiably,  "  I  will  ring 
for  my  maid  to  help  you.  Indeed,  you  need 
not  trouble  youself  at  all  with  those  trunks. 
Frangoise  will  put  everything  in  order  for 
you." 

Agnes  shook  her  head,  w^ith  a  polite  nega- 
tive smile.  "  Oh,  thank  you,  cousin  Augusta," 
she  said,  "  but  I  prefer  to  do  my  own  unpack- 
ing. I  am  accustomed  to  do  things  for  my- 
self ;  I  have  been  brought  up  to  it." 

Mrs.  Leroy  did  not  ring.  She  seated  herself 
at  Agnes's  side,  and  watched  her  in  silence 
for  several  minutes. 

"  You  have  a  number  of  books,  I  see,"  she 
presently  said.     "  Are  you  a  great  reader  }  " 

Agnes  gave  a  surprised  start.  "  I  try  to 
read  most  of  the  good  books,"  she  said.  "  Do 
not  you } " 


20  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Good  books  ?  "  laughed  Mrs.  Leroy. 
"  Well,  I  can't  say  that  I  am  devoted  to  relig- 
ious reading." 

Agnes  creased  her  broad  forehead  rather 
bewilderedly.  "  Oh,  you  misunderstand  me," 
she  said.  *'  I  mean  the  best  books  that  come 
out,  —  those  with  thought  and  usefulness  in 
them." 

Mrs.  Leroy  gave  a  slight  cough.  "  I  am 
not  a  great  reader,"  she  said.  "  Indeed,  I  am 
afraid  that  I  read  very  little." 

Agnes,  who  had  risen  from  her  stooping 
posture  before  the  trunk  to  place  some  vol- 
umes upon  the  table,  now  turned  her  frank, 
direct  eyes  full  upon  the  speaker. 

"  How,  then,  do  you  manage  to  get  on 
with  those  people  of  whom  cousin  Rivington 
spoke } " 

"  What  people,  my  dear  > " 

"The  best  sort  of  people,  as  he  calls  them." 

Mrs.  Leroy  gave  a  high,  careless  laugh. 
"  My  dear,"  she  exclaimed,  "  they    don't  talk 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  21 

about  books.  They  have  n't  time  ;  they  are 
too  busy  enjoying  themselves." 

Agnes  had  set  her  volumes  upon  the  table. 
She  walked  toward  the  half-emptied  trunk 
again,  and  knelt  down  beside  it.  She  looked 
extremely  thoughtful,  and  the  fixity  of  her 
gaze  had  an  immense  seriousness.  "  How  do 
they  enjoy  themselves  ?  "  she  asked. 

*'  Oh,  in  a  hundred  ways,"  answered  Mrs, 
Leroy,  with  a  little  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
''  It  depends  upon  the  season,  my  dear,  of 
course.  Just  now  they  are  dining  out  and 
going  to  the  opera  a  great  deal.  In  a  week 
or  two  the  parties  will  begin  ;  there  they 
dance  a  great  deal.  I  suppose  you  have 
learned  to  dance  ^  " 

Agnes  looked  more  serious  than  before,  and 
a  little  paler.  "  No,  I  never  dance,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  no  love  for  it." 

"  But  you  must  learn,  my  dear,  of  course," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  a  positive  alarm  in  her 
tones.     **  You  will  find    that    all  the  girls  of 


22  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

your  own  age  dance ;  they  could  not  go  out 
unless  they  did." 

"  Then  I  will  not  go  out."^ 

Mrs.  Leroy  rose  in  consternation.  "  You 
can't  mean  that !  "  she  exclaimed.  ''  I  have 
made  all  my  preparations  for  bringing  you 
into  society  this  winter ;  I  have  told  my 
friends  about  you,  and  these,  and  many  more, 
will  send  you  invitations.  As  for  dancing, 
you  will  find  it  quite  easy  after  a  few  private 
lessons." 

By  this  time  Agnes  had  again  risen  from 
her  kneeling  posture.  She  went  up  to  her 
cousin  and  laid  one  hand  with  weightless  deli- 
cacy upon  Mrs.  Leroy's  arm.  The  elder  lady 
had  a  very  close  view  of  her  companion's 
face ;  there  are  certain  flowers  whose  charms 
are  never  seen  until  we  hold  them  quite  near  ; 
it  seemed  to  Mrs.  Leroy  that  the  nearer  she 
got  to  Agnes  Wolverton  the  better  she  saw 
how  much  ebon  lustre  and  pliant  ripple  lay  in 
her  dark  hair,  what  a  rare  little  dimple  softly 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  23 

indented  her  round  chin,  and  how  her  Hght- 
bkie  eyes  had  the  hmpidness  of  crystals  under 
their  curved  lashes,  black  as  night. 

"Cousin  Augusta,"  said  Agnes,  with  low 
emphasis,  "  I  have  no  desire  to  displease  you. 
You  have  allowed  me  to  come  and  live  here, 
and  it  is  of  course  necessary  that  after  such 
a  kindness  on  your  part  we  should  live  on 
perfectly  agreeable  terms."  And  now  the 
young  girl  smiled  ;  it  was  a  smile  as  sweet  as 
sunlight  breaking  upon  a  pink  rose.  "  You 
shall  not  find  me  hard  to  get  along  with,"  she 
added,  "  if  I  am  managed  properly." 

"  I  mean  to  manage  you  very  properly," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy,  kissing  her  on  the  forehead. 

That  evening  Rivington  returned  from  the 
club  considerably  earlier  than  usual ;  it  was 
not  one  of  his  grand  whist-nights.  He  found 
his  sister  sitting  alone  before  a  silvered  grate, 
in  which  variant  flames  were  writhing  about 
one  big  dark  block  of  coal,  as  though  they 
were  agonized  serpents  and  it  had  fallen  upon 
Ihem. 


24  A   BO  PEL  ESS   CASE. 

"  Has  anybody  been  here  ?  "  asked  Riving- 
ton,  hiding  a  yawn  as  he  sat  down.  He  had 
had  on  a  yellow  cloth  overcoat  dotted  with 
immense  pearl  buttons,  as  he  entered  the 
room,  but  this  and  a  collapsed  cJiapeau  bras 
he  had  flung  upon  a  chair  just  before  seat- 
ing himself. 

"Yes,"  said  IMrs.  Leroy,  looking  round  at 
her  brother.  She  was  shading  her  face  from 
the  fire  with  a  large  fan  that  was'  a  blaze  of 
Japanese  color.  ''  Cousin  Livvy  Maxwell  has 
been  here.  He  came  to  see  Agnes ;  it  was 
so  sweet  of  him  ;  you  know  how  people  pelt 
him  with  invitations.  He  came  round  from  a 
o:reat  dinner  at  the  Ruts^er  Van  Rensselaers', 
and  then  he  went  to  a  dance  afterward." 

"  Well,"  said  Rivington,  "  how  did  they  get 
along  1 " 

*'0h,  I  didn't  think  of  letting  him  see  Ag- 
nes," said  Airs.  Leroy.  "  Why,  Rivington,  the 
girl  has  n't  a  decent  rag  to  appear  in." 

"That 's  putting  it  strong." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE  25 

"And  then  "...  suddenly  began  Mrs.  Le- 
roy.  But  here  she  paused.  She  was  staring 
at  a  figure  on  the  Japanese  fan,  a  gorgeous 
lady  with  minute  eyes  and  globular  hair-pins, 
as  though  it  had  roused  her  special  ire. 

"Well,"  said  Rivington,  "and  then.?"  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Leroy  rose  abruptly,  and  began  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room.  She  had  knotted  her 
hands  together  very  tightly ;  they  sparkled 
with  diamonds  that  the  coming  of  Agnes  had 
drawn  from  seven  years  of  entombment  in  her 
soft-lined  jewel-casket. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Rivington,"  she  broke  forth, 
excitedly,  "  I  think  that  we  have  made  a  dread- 
ful mistake.  We  should  never  have  asked 
that  girl  here  until  we  knew  all  about  her. 
I  'm  sorry  enough  to  say  it  of  one  whose 
mother  was  a  Van  Corlear,  but  she  is  not  of 
our  class.  We  shall  be  obliged  to  blush  for 
her." 

"  I  should  n't  know  how  if  I  tried,"  said  Riv- 
ngton,  with  a  grim  little  laugh.     *' My  blush- 


26  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

ing-works  are  out  of  order.  Upon  my  word, 
Augusta,"  he  went  on,  ''  I  think  you  're  too 
severe.  Give  the  girl  a  chance.  She  behaved 
very  respectably  at  dinner  ;  I  thought  her 
slow,  that  was  all ;  she  did  n't  seem  to  have 
any  snap,  nor  the  least  bit  of  style.  But  I 
did  n't  see  that  she  threatened  to  disgrace  us." 

Mrs.  Leroy  had  paused  beside  a  mosaic 
table,  where  burned  a  faience  lamp  whose 
light  fell  upon  her  face  through  a  shade  of 
tender  rose-color  ;  but  even  this  happy  glow 
could  not  mellow  the  pained  austerity  of  her 
look. 

"The  girl  is  not  of  our  world,  Rivington," 
said  his  sister.  "  She  has  made  a  mistake  as 
much  as  we  have  made  one.  Heaven  only 
knows  what  she  expected  to  find  us  —  a  set  of 
prigs  and  blue-stockings,  I  am  beginning  to 
fancy.  You  do  her  an  injustice  when  you 
speak  slightingly  of  her.  She  's  a  very  nice 
girl,  in  her  way.  Only  it  is  not  our  way.  It 
has  come  over  me  since  dinner  that  we  can 
never  do  anything  with  her." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE. 


27 


"  Oh,  pshaw,  Augusta,"  said  Rivington,  who 
wanted  to  smoke,  and  was  searching  the  vel- 
vet-draped mantel  for  a  certain  bronze  match- 
safe,  "  what  have  you  discovered  ?  " 

"  I  can't  explain  it,  Rivington ;  it 's  a  sort 
of  atmosphere.  Her  entrance  into  our  circle 
of  friends  will  be  the  most  preposterous  thing ! 
Why,  she  is  a  girl  who  spends  four  or  five 
hours  a  day  in  reading ;  she  makes  a  duty  of 
it." 

"  Oh^"  said  Rivington,  giving  his  martial 
gray  moustache  one  rather  flurried  stroke, 
"you  don't  tell  me  ! " 

"When  you  spoke  to  her  to-night  of  the 
best  sort  of  people,"  pursued  Mrs.  Leroy, 
*'she  thought  that  you  meant  authors,  poets, 
and  notorieties  of  that  description." 

"Oh,  come,  now,"  said  Rivington  ;  "did  she 
really  tell  you  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  girl's  matrimonial 
ambition  is  .? "  went  on  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  I  'm 
sure  it  is  to  marry  a  professor  in  a  college." 


28  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

A  bitterly  sarcastic  smile  now  touched  the 
lady's  lips  as  she  added:  **Some  person  with 
an  eternal  ink-stain  on  his  middle  finger,  short 
pantaloons,  and  the  habit  of  forgetfully  wear- 
ing a  pen  behind  his  ear  when  he  goes  into 
the  street." 

"You  don  t  mean  that,  now  !  "  cried  Riving- 
ton,  softly. 

Mrs.  Leroy's  voice  became  plaintive.  *'  I 
shall  do  my  best,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  remem- 
ber that  her  mother  was  a  Van  Corlear.  But 
I  have  a  presentiment  that  she  will  do  a  great 
deal  to  make  us  forget  it." 

"Oh,  by  Jove,"  said  Rivington,  throwing 
himself  into  a  chair,  "  if  you  think  that,  why, 
send  her  away  again." 

"It  is  too  late,"  declared  Mrs.  Lercy. 


II. 


EANWHILE,  during  this  same  even- 
ing, Agnes  had  been  seated  in  her 
chamber,  writing  a  letter.  She  was 
writing  to  her  relatives  who  had  gone  into  the 
West.  Sometimes  she  would  turn  away  from 
the  paper,  with  a  quivering  lip,  and  a  desire 
not  to  let  her  tears  drop  there.  But  not  many 
tears  fell,  after  all  ;  for  this  self-reliant  girl 
kept  the  emotional  flood-gates  rather  stoutly 
barred  ;  she  had  an  enormous  dislike  to  "  giv- 
ing way ; "  perhaps  she  thought  it  morally 
wrong  ;  she  thought  a  good  many  things  mor- 
ally wrong  that  numerous  other  girls  do  not 
think  about  at  all.  She  had  read  profusely, 
though  imsystematically,  and  the  sure  result 
of  such  a  course  had  been  to  entanfrle  some 


30  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

falsities  with  her  truths.  Her  mind  had  en- 
deavored to  keep  a  distinct  souvenir  of  every 
greater  mind  whose  work  it  had  looked  upon  ; 
it  had,  so  to  speak,  brought  away  specimens 
from  its  travels.  But  a  fragment  of  the 
Sphinx's  nose,  such  as  tourists  sometimes  get, 
cannot  be  called  a  very  representative  me- 
mento. Poor  Agnes  had  peeped  down  into 
one  or  two  craters  that  were  quite  too  fiery 
for  her,  and  perhaps  the  bits  of  cold  lava  that 
she  now  and  then  looked  at  only  served  to 
remind  her  of  past  bewilderments.  She  had 
been  very  fond  of  the  three  relatives  from 
whom  she  was  now  separated.  One  had  been 
her  dead  father's  sister,  a  wiry  little  lady  who 
had  taught  school  before  her  marriage,  and 
whose  neatness  and  economy  should  have 
found  husbandly  sympathy ;  but  in  reality 
Mrs.  Cliffe's  lord  was  a  big,  florid  creature, 
who  did  everything  in  a  lolUng,  reckless  fash- 
ion, and  perpetually  tormented  her  for  this 
reason,  as  though  he  had  been  a  spot  in  her 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  3 1 

carpet  which  she  could  not  rub  away,  or  a 
rent  that  her  deft  fingers  could  not  darn  out 
of  sight.  Then  there  had  been  a  daughter, 
Marianna,  whose  age  was  within  a  few  months 
of  her  young  cousin's.  Marianna  was  her 
father's  own  daughter  ;  she  was  a  great,  rosy, 
bouncing  girl,  with  a  way  of  breaking  into  a 
wild  roar  of  laughter  when  anything  pleased 
her;  and,  as  a  rule,  everything  pleased  her. 
Years  of  lecturing  from  her  poor  shocked  lit- 
tle mother  had  reduced  Marian na's  laugh  by 
several  distinct  tones  ;  but  it  w^as  still  an  aw- 
ful fact ;  it  was  a  sort  of  household  ^tna, 
whose  eruptive  caprices  one  could  never  cal- 
culate upon. 

All  three  of  these  relatives,  aunt,  uncle,  and 
cousin,  were  devotedly  fond  of  Agnes.  She 
had  lived  among  them  as  an  unconscious  law- 
giver ;  she  had  taken  her  place  naturally  ;  it 
was  like  water  finding  its  level ;  hers  had  been 
the  strongest  and  clearest  mind,  the  most 
even-poised  temperament.     But  at  length  her 


32  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

subjects  had  revolted.  After  days  of  hard 
fighting,  Agnes  found  herself  a  deposed  mon- 
arch. They  would  not  let  her  go  West  with 
them.  Since  Uncle  Cliffe  had  had  the  ground 
taken  from  under  his  feet  here,  and  must  seek 
a  new  strip  somewhere  else,  this  was  no  rea- 
son why  Agnes  should  accompany  him  in  the 
risky  search  for  another  foothold.  Mrs.  Cliffe 
thought  wonderful  things  of  her  niece  ;  she 
believed  that  Agnes  was  a  light  under  a 
bushel,  the  bushel  being  cruelly  secretive,  and 
the  light  especially  brilliant.  If  they  went 
into  the  West,  which  Mrs.  Cliffe  shrank  from 
as  a  doleful  wilderness,  Agnes  must  go  and 
live  with  some  of  her  mother's  grand  New- 
York  relations.  At  least  she  must  try  it  for 
a  year.  "Then  you  can  come  and  join  us,  my 
dear,"  her  aunt  had  said ;  "  only  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  not  want  to  come.  As  for  our- 
selves, we  shall  get  on  very  well.  If  we  live 
all  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  prairie,  no  one  will 
hear  Marianna  laugh  there,  and  that  will  be 
all  the  better  ;  perhaps  it  wiJl  cure  her." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  33 

Agnes  had  yielded  at  last,  but  not  before 
she  had  assured  herself  that  Mr.  Cliffe  was 
going  into  a  really  prosperous  clerkship,  more 
lucrative  than  anything  he  had  enjoyed  for  at 
least  two  years  past.  The  farewells  had  been 
painful ;  on  poor  Marianna's  part  they  had 
been  quite  explosive.  But  all  were  convinced 
that  it  was  for  the  best  to  leave  Agnes  behind!,. 
— all  except  Agnes  herself.  Only  Marianna 
had  been  at  home  on  the  day  when  Mrs.  Le- 
roy  called  at  the  quiet  little  house  in  Brooklyn  ;. 
but  Marianna's  account  of  this  lady  had  been 
fervidly  complimentary.  Then  circumstances 
had  quickened  the  Cliffes'  departure,  and  it 
had  so  happened  that  Agnes  and  Mrs.  Leroy 
had  never  met  each  other  until  to-day. 

Agnes  had  promised  to  "  write  immediately," 
and  she  was  now  keeping  her  promise.  "  I 
have  been  greatly  surprised,"  were  some  of 
the  words  that  she  wrote.  "I  will  not  yet  say 
that  I  have  been  disappointed  as  well,  for  of 
course  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  be  disap- 
3 


34  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

pointed.  You  know  what  I  expected  to  find 
Mrs.  Russell  Leroy.  With  her  wealth  and 
opportunities,  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  must 
be  surrounded  by  the  most  remarkable  minds 
of  the  time  ;  I  was  prepared  for  a  woman  of 
splendid  force.  Whatever  put  this  idea  into 
our  heads,  none  of  us  can  tell ;  can  we  1  But 
we  must  all  remember  the  Mrs.  Leroy  of  our 
i-magi nation  —  and  expectation.  Well,  I  have 
found  my  cousin  very  different  from  all  that. 
She  is  extremely  graceful,  and  she  dresses 
lake  the  figures  in  the  fashion-magazines.  I 
fancy  she  would  rather  die  than  be  out  of  the 
fashion.  But  she  carries  herself  with  an  air, 
I  can  assure  you,  and  already  it  has  grown  a 
pleasure  for  me  to  watch  her.  You  know  I 
like  to  study  people ;  she  represents  an  idea 
so  distinctly  that  she  interests  me.  I  think 
that  I  have  already  got  to  understand  her 
thoroughly,  though  for  my  own  sake  I  hope 
not.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  I  in  turn  am 
rather  a  puzzle  to  her.     Let  me  tell  you  of  a 


A   HOPELESS   CASE,  35 

little  conversation  which  we  had  this  evening, 
while  I  was  unpacking  my  trunk.   .  .  . 

"My  cousin  Rivington  Van  Corlear  is  ex- 
ceptionally handsome.  He  has  such  a  state- 
ly look  that  I  immediately  imagined  him  on 
some  sort  of  dais,  standing  up  to  be  presented 
with  something  by  a  grateful  assemblage  of 
grandees.  But  it  would  not  be  a  reward  for 
conversational  powers,  I  already  feel  certain. 
Perhaps  my  cousin  thinks  that  complete  phys- 
ical grandeur  is  all  that  should  be  expected 
of  him;  but  I  can't  be  sure  of  this  ...  I 
have  not  yet  'placed'  Rivington."  .  .   . 

On  the  following  day  Agnes  found  herself 
watching  Mrs.  Leroy  with  an  involuntary  sus- 
pense. She  felt  that  so  large  a  chasm  had 
widened  between  them  as  to  make  some  sort 
of  congenial  air-bridge  an  actual  necessity. 
**  My  dear,"  said  her  cousin,  the  next  morn- 
ing, "you  had  a  visitor  last  evening;  but  I 
did  not  tell  you  about  it.     You  seemed  tired." 

"  A  visitor ! "  repeated  Agnes,  with  a  start 


36  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

and  a  little  flush  of  rosy  color.  "  Oh,  cousin 
Augusta,  was  it  I\Ir.  Speed  ? " 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  a  shade  paler.  "  No," 
she  presently  said.     "  Who  is  Mr.  Speed  }  " 

"A  friend  of  mine,"  answered  Agnes.  She 
seemed,  for  an  instant,  on  the  verge  of  saying 
more,  but  some  afterthought  kept  her  silent. 

Mrs.  Leroy  had  been  working  at  a  small 
scrap  of  embroidery,  where  twenty  rich  colors 
seemed  clustered  in  delicious  turmoil.  She 
dropped  this  upon  her  lap  for  a  moment,  let- 
ting it  make  a  radiant  spot  against  her  black 
robe,  while  both  hands  also  rested  there,  with 
the  uplifted  needle  gleaming  in  one  of  them. 

"  Tell  me  about  Mr.  Speed,"  she  said. 

*'  Oh,  there  is  nothing  to  tell,"  said  Agnes. 
"  He  is  the  only  gentleman  whom  I  know  .  .  . 
at  all  intimately.  You  shall  see  him  and  judge 
for  yourself."  There  was  a  little  silence,  and 
then  Agnes  went  on :  "  Who  was  the  visitor 
of  whom  you  spoke  .?  " 

Mrs.  Leroy  seemed  ^o  wake  from  a  reverie. 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  37 

"A  cousin  of  mine — on  my  mother's  side. 
Mr.  Livingston  Maxwell."  Her  pale-gray  eyes 
swept  Agnes's  face  for  an  instant,  and  then 
were  lowered.  "  My  dear  Agnes,"  she  said, 
"  shall  you  not  let  me  take  you  to  my  dress- 
maker's and  have  a  few  new  costumes  made  .''  " 

Agnes  bit  her  lip  ever  so  slightly.  "  Do 
you  mean  ball-dresses  .''  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Leroy  brightened  a  little.  '*  Yes,  my 
dear.  Three  or  four  ball-dresses  in  the  latest 
fashion,  and  perhaps  an  evening  dress  or  two. 
We  might  go  round  to  Fourbellini's  this  morn- 
ing.    I  will  have  the  coup^  ordered." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Agnes,  musingly,  after  a 
pause. 

The  ladies  entered  a  glossy  little  carriage, 
about  a  half-hour  later,  drawn  by  a  muscular 
horse  of  faultless  grooming,  with  orgate  sil- 
ver-plated trappings,  and  superintended  by  a 
coachman,  in  a  shining,  cockaded  hat,  with  a 
tiny  bunch  of  violets  on  the  left  lappet  of  his 
dark-blue  livery.     They  were  driven   through 


38  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

prosperous -looking  streets  in  what  we  call 
the  upper  portion  of  the  town,  and  at  length 
alighted  before  a  brown-stone  mansion  of  lofty 
elegance. 

"  Did  you  not  say  you  were  going  to  your 
dressmaker's,  cousin  Augusta  ?"  asked  Agnes, 
as  they  ascended  the  imposing  stoop. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy.  "This  is  Fourbel- 
lini's.^' 

An  extremely  smart  butler  admitted  the 
ladies,  and  ushered  them  into  a  drawing-room 
furnished  with  sumptuous  richness. 

"  Your  dressmaker  must  be  a  very  grand 
person,"  said  Agnes,  as  they  seated  them- 
selves on  a  lounge  that  bloomed  with  kalei- 
doscopic needlework  from  a  ground  of  gar- 
net satin. 

"  Fourbellini  }  Oh,  she 's  a  great  lady," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  one  of  her  faint,  cold 
laughs.  *'  You  '11  be  immensely  impressed  by 
her.  Everybody  is,  at  first.  She  's  horribly 
spoiled  ;    she 's  the   fashion,  you   know.     But 


A  HOPELESS  CASE.  39 

then  she  is  a  wonderful  artist  —  a  pupil  of 
Worth's,  I  believe  ;  at  least  she  says  so.  She 
is  a  Frenchwoman,  who  married  an  Italian. 
He  is  a  little  pale  man,  with  eyes  like  needles. 
He  goes  about  and  collects  the  bills  from  his 
insolvent  customers.  They  say  that  he  fixes 
them  with  his  glittering  eye,  like  the  Ancient 
Mariner.  They  are  a  wonderful  pair ;  they 
are  having  their  day,  like  everything  else." 

A  large  lady  in  dull,  voluminous  silk  pres- 
ently rustled  into  the  room.  She  had  vivid 
black  eyes  and  gray  hair  worn  rolled  over  a 
cushion  with  quite  imperial  effect.  She  went 
up  to  Mrs.  Leroy  and  put  out  a  hand  that 
flashed  with  jewels. 

"  My  dear  Madame  Leroy,"  she  began,  in 
voluble  French,  ''  you  have  come  to  reproach 
me.  Ca  saiite  aiix  yeux ;  I  see  it  plainly 
enough  in  your  face.  We  should  have  had 
your  black  satin  ready  sooner.  But,  vion 
Dieu,  we  have  been  giving  immense  reflec- 
tion to  it !     You  must  pardon  the  delay.     It 


40  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

is  SO  difficult,  Madame,  to  achieve  a  real  sen- 
timent in  black  satin.  It  is  like  making  a  fine 
picture  out  of  two  or  three  pigments.  But 
you  will  be  generous  ;  you  will  give  us  two 
or  three  days  longer.  By  then  you  shall  have 
a  masterpiece." 

Mrs.  Leroy  answered  in  admirable  French. 
"  I  have  not  come  to  speak  about  my  own  af- 
fairs, Madame  Fourbeilini,"  she  said.  "  You 
see,  I  have  brought  my  cousin,  Miss  Wolver- 
ton,  with  me  to-day.  You  must  get  her  up 
some  dresses  as  soon  as  possible.  First  of  all, 
a  dinner-dress  and  a  street  costume.  After 
that "...  Mrs.  Leroy  here  suddenly  paused 
and  turned  toward  Agnes.  "  You  speak 
French,  my  dear,  do  you  not .?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Agnes,  calmly.  "  I  read  it  very 
well.  But  I  do  not  speak  it,  and  I  under- 
stand it  very  slightly  when  spoken." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  a  sort  of  un- 
conscious, off-hand  commiseration.  "  But  it  is 
of  no  consequence,"  she  went  on.  "  Madame 
Fourbeilini  speaks  Enghsh  perfectly." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  4 1 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  majestic 
dressmaker,  in  that  language,  looking  at  Ag- 
nes with  a  gracious  smile. 

"  I  have  been  saying,"  continued  Mrs.  Le- 
roy,  now  addressing  Agnes,  **  that  you  will 
require  something  nice  to  wear."  And  she 
repeated  the  words  that  she  had  just  addressed 
to  Madame  Fourbellini. 

Before  Agnes  could  reply,  the  Frenchwom- 
an began  again,  in  her  vehement,  exclam- 
atory way.  "  It  is  a  most  delightful  type. 
Pardon  me.  Mademoiselle  ;  this  is  no  mere 
banalite  that  I  am  talking ;  it  is  prodigiously 
sincere,  I  assure  you.  Light-blue  eyes  and 
hair  of  raven  blackness  —  the  night  and  the 
morning  mixed  together  —  the  pale  North 
mingled  with  the  tropics.  It  is  astonishingly 
rare  when  accompanied  by  such  a  beauty  as 
Mademoiselle's."  Here  Madame  Fourbellini 
lifted  her  plump  silken  shoulders  and  heaved 
a  great  sigh.  "  But  tencz,  it  is  a  very  hard 
type  for  us  —  oh,  enormously  hard  !     I  should 


^ 


42  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

say  that,  in  her  street-costume,  INIademoiselle 
had  best  choose  only  symbolic  colorings.  We 
shall  produce  for  her  a  charming  discord  ;  she 
is  a  charming  discord  herself  ;  the  result  will 
be  a  delicious  harmony.  For  example,  the 
bonnet  shall  be  a  mass  of  concordant  tints, 
but  these  again  shall  clash  with  the  waist, 
which  must  in  turn  reconcile  bonnet  and  skirt. 
The  conception  is  not  easy  ;  but  it  will  come ; 
leave  everything  to  us,  my  dear  jMademoiselle. 
.  .  .  Then,  for  your  evening  robes,  we  will 
think  out  some  doiic^itQ  fa7itaisies — musical 
and  poetic,  you  know,  and  with  great  feeling 
in  them.  Have  no  fear,  Mademoiselle  ;  we 
shall  not  fail  ;  we  make  no  claim  to  genius  ;  it 
is  genius,  you  know,  that  sometimes  fails  ;  we 
have  but  talent  —  painstaking  talent  —  and, 
as  Madame  Leroy  can  tell  you,  a  supreme  love 
for  art." 

"  Now  you  must  give  me  your  promise,"  said 
]\Irs.   Leroy,  decisively,  at  this  point,  '^  that  at 
least  two  of  these  dresses  shall  be  ready  in-    * 
side  of  three  days." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  43 

"  I  shall  only  want  three  dresses,"  Agnes 
here  said;  "one  for  the  street  and  two  for 
company."  The  young  girl  spoke  very  qui 
etly,  and  looked  full  in  her  cousin's  face. 

"  My  dear  !  "  faltered  Mrs.  Leroy. 

Agnes  went  on  speaking.  She  now  looked 
Madame  Fourbellini  full  in  the  face.  **  I 
should  like  an  exact  estimate,"  she  said,  "  of 
how  much  these  dresses  will  cost." 

Madame  seemed  very  much  astonished  for 
an  instant  ;  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Leroy  ;  she 
began  to  laugh  in  a  little  clucking,  mirthless 
way,  that  had  a  peculiarly  French  sound. 
"  Ma  foil'  she  said,  "  how  can  I  tell  the  young 
lady .''  —  I,  who  never  concern  myself  with 
these  stupid  prices.  That  is  Fourbellini's  af- 
fair." The  dressmaker  laughed  again.  "I  tell 
him  that  is  what  I  married  him  for — to  let 
me  follow  my  art  only  —  exploiter  vion  ideal  f' 

**  In  that  case,"  said  Agnes,  "  perhaps  I  had 
best  see  your  husband." 

Madame  Fourbellini  smiled   w^ith   vast    po- 


44  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

liteness,  but  the  smile  had  a  Httle  icy  glitter 
about  it.  "  Really,  Mademoiselle,  he  is  not  at 
home." 

There  was  a  slight  silence.  It  was  now 
Agnes's  turn  to  smile.  "  I  am  not  accus- 
tomed," she  said,  with  gentle  directness,  "to 
make  purchases  without  knowing  their  cost." 
She  looked  at  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  Perhaps  we  had 
better  come  again,"  she  went  on,  "at  some 
time  when  ]\Iadame  Fourbellini's  husband  is 
at  home." 

"  That  is  so  seldom,  Mademoiselle,"  said  the 
dressmaker,  with  the  least  drawl,  and  a  very 
brilliant  smile  indeed ;  "  he  has  so  much  to 
keep  him  away  from  home." 

"You  are  very  good  to  warn  me,"  said  Ag- 
nes, taking  several  steps  toward  the  door.  "  I 
shall  be  saved  the  trouble  of  looking  for  him." 

Mrs.   Leroy  followed    her  cousin.      It  was 
perhaps   this  fact  that  sent  a  sort  of   politic 
pang  through  Madame's  breast.     Art  was  Art,  - 
of  course,  and  should  resent  sordidness ;  but 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  45 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  nevertheless  a  customer  worth 
saving. 

'*  I  am  so  wretched  at  remembering  prices  !  " 
the  dressmaker  now^  piteously  exclaimed.  **  It 
is  not  my  fault ;  it  is  my  calamity.  Dame,  let 
me  think  .  .  .  the  street-costume,  Mademoi- 
selle, would  probably  be "  .  .  .  And  here 
Madame  Fourbellini  lightly  tapped  her  stately 
forehead.  Presently  she  named  a  sum  which 
made  Agnes  retire  at  once  to  the  threshold 
of  the  drawinsf-room. 

o 

"That  is  much  more  than  I  can  afford  to 
pay,"  she  said.  "  Excuse  me  for  having  taken 
any  of  your  valuable  time,  Madame  Fourbel- 
lini." 

"  Oh,  do  not  speak  of  it !  "  murmured  the 
lady,  in  tones  whose  politeness  smothered  the 
least  trace  of  irony. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Agnes,  amiably. 
She  turned  to  Mrs,  Leroy.  '*  I  will  wait  for 
you  in  the  carriage,  cousin  Augusta,  if  you 
desire  it." 


46  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

*'  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  disconso- 
late coolness.     "  We  will  go  together." 

The  two  cousins  were  seated  in  the  coiip^ 
before  either  of  them  again  spoke.  "  I  am 
sorry  to  have  inconvenienced  you,"  Agnes 
said,  at  length.  Her  clear  eyes  were  shining 
a  little  more  than  usual. 

'*  It  has  been  no  inconvenience,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy,  dryly,  "  but  it  has  been  rather  unpleas- 
ant." 

''  That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Agnes.  Then 
she  added,  after  a  moment,  "  I  thought  it  a 
trifle  amusing,  too." 

Mrs.  Leroy  looked  out  of  the  carriage-win- 
dow. Then  she  turned  quite  abruptly  toward 
her  cousin.  "  Of  course  it  was  amusing,"  she 
said.  ^*  I  don't  pretend  to  approve  of  Four- 
bellini ;  I  told  you  she  was  spoiled  ;  I  take 
her  as  I  find  her ;  everybody  does." 

Agnes  raised  her  dark  brows  a  little.  "  Ev- 
erybody 1 "  she  repeated.  ''  Do  you  not  mean 
only  a  class  of  people  whose  pocket-books  per- 
mit of  expensive  follies  }  " 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  47 

"  Oh,  come,  my  clear,  that  is  a  trifle  per- 
sonal." Mrs.  Leroy  laid  on  Agnes's  sleeve  a 
slim  hand  in  a  glove  whose  tiny  row  of  but- 
tons went  far  over  the  wrist.  "  I  had  no  idea 
about  your  troubling  yourself  in  any  way  what- 
ever with  expenses,"  she  said.  "  I  supposed 
that  you  would  allow  the  dresses  to  be  charged 
to  me.  I  am  aware  that  your  income  is  not 
large,  and  I  thought  we  would  let  the  whole 
matter  go  without  saying." 

Agnes  looked  at  her  cousin  very  directly  ; 
she  had  colored  somewhat,  but  her  expression 
was  brightly  serene.  "  Upon  my  word,"  she 
exclaimed,  with  an  odd  smile,  "  I  wish  that 
you  wotdd  let  the  matter  go  without  saying  ; 
I  should  like  it  much  better." 

Mrs.  Leroy  understood  her.  The  rebuke 
had  pricked  deep,  but  she  showed  no  sign  of 
a  wound  ;  it  was  not  her  way.  But  perhaps 
disappointment  annoyed  her  even  more  than 
secret  pique.  She  had  an  income  of  generous 
amplitude ;   she  was   to  have  taken   pride    in 


48  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"bringing  Agnes  out"  with  a  wardrobe  wor- 
thy of  a  regenerated  kinswoman.  She  wanted 
simply  to  waive  the  whole  question  of  Miss 
Wolverton's  being  her  pensioner ;  it  was  not 
to  be  thought  about  at  all.  But  suddenly 
Agnes  had  thrust  the  ugly  fact  up  into  her 
face,  and  made  the  future  wear  a  very  imprac- 
ticable look.  Some  women,  of  precisely  Mrs. 
Leroy's  general  worldly  surroundings,  would 
have  lost  their  tempers  under  present  cir- 
cumstances. But  Mrs.  Leroy  was  not  such  a 
woman.  She  had  a  tireless  obstinacy,  and  she 
was  nerved,  as  we  know,  by  a  strong  sense  of 
social  duty. 

"  We  shall  have  to  go  somewhere  else,  and 
do  a  little  bargaining,"  she  said,  the  faint  sar- 
casm escaping  her  almost  unawares. 

"  Yes,  if  you  please,"  said  Agnes.  "  I  should 
like  to  secure  some  good,  cheap  dressmaker, 
if  you  have  no  objection." 

"Dear  me,  what  a  little  economist  1  have 
found!"  said  her  cousin,  with  neatly  playful 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  49 

satire.     "  You  will  be  wanting  to  take  me  back 
with  you  to  Brooklyn,  if  I  am  not  careful." 

"  I  am  beginning  to  prefer  Brooklyn  dress- 
makers," said  Agnes,  in  even  tones  ;  *'  they 
are  not  so  aesthetic." 

"  I  wish  they  were,"  Mrs.  Leroy  felt  a  mo- 
mentary impulse  to  retort ;  for  something  in 
her  cousin's  voice  and  manner  had  irritated 
her  like  the  presence  of  hidden  ridicule.  But 
she  crushed  down  the  impertinence  as  it  rose 
to  her  lips,  and  leaned  forward  to  knock  on 
the  front  glass-pane  of  the  coup^. 

"  Are  we  going  to  Brooklyn  ? "  asked  Ag- 
nes, with  quaint  gravity,  as  the  coachman  bent 
down  to  catch  his  mistress's  new  order. 

Mrs.  Leroy  pretended  that  she  did  not  hear 
this  question,  as  she  called  out  to  the  man  a 
certain  address  which  she  had  just  remem- 
bered. 

At  dinner,  that  evening,  Rivington  looked 
toward  his  sister,  and  said,  "  You  seem  tired, 
Augusta." 

4 


50  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy.  Her  eyes  wan- 
dered in  the  direction  of  Agnes.  "We  have 
had  a  rather  hard  day  of  it." 

"  Cousin  Augusta  has  been  very  good  to 
me,"  said  Agnes,  in  her  mild,  collected  way. 
'*  She  has  been  telling  me  how  I  ought  to 
dress  myself.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  splen- 
did to  look  upon.  I  shall  be  like  Solomon  in 
all  his  glory." 

"  Solomon  was  a  very  wise  person,"  said 
Mrs.   Leroy,  scanning  the  table-cloth. 

"Ah,  but  he  was  not  so  fortunate  as  I  am," 
replied  Agnes,  placidly. 

"Why  not .?  "  asked  Rivington. 

"  He  sometimes  had  evil  counselors,  you 
know." 

There  was  a  brief  silence.  Rivington 
stroked  his  moustache.  He  stole  a  glance  at 
his  sister,  which  was  not  returned.  Mrs.  Le- 
roy went  to  her  room  for  a  short  time,  after 
dinner  was  concluded,  having  a  slight  head- 
ache, though  not   pleading  one  as  an  excuse 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  5  I 

for  her  disappearance.  She  had  spoken  truly  ; 
to-day  she  had  really  been  through  an  ordeal. 
They  had  visited  four  separate  establishments 
before  Agnes  had  consented  to  accept  the 
proposed  charges.  She  had  attempted  no 
haggling,  no  "  beating  down  "  as  to  terms ; 
she  had  simply  listened  to  the  various  prop- 
ositions made  her,  and  refused  them  with  un- 
flinching suavity.  "  It  is  too  much  ;  I  am  not 
prepared  to  give  that  amount,"  she  had  firm- 
ly objected,  and  the  ladies  had  been  driven 
somewhere  else.  But  at  last  it  was  all  settled. 
Certain  orders  had  at  last  been  given,  and 
their  prompt  execution  faithfully  promised. 
*'  Only,"  now  mused  Mrs.  Leroy,  smelling  a 
flacon  in  the  dim  seclusion  of  her  private 
chamber,  "  if  I  am  called  upon  next  week  to 
chaperone  a  fright,  it  will  be  her  fault  and 
not  mine." 

At  the  same  moment  Agnes  and  Rivington 
were  seated  together  in  one  of  the  lower 
rooms.     It   will  be  remembered   that   Agnes 


52  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

had  expressed  doubts,  in  her  recent  letter  to 
the  Cliffes,  regarding  her  male  cousin.  Her 
opportunities  for  taking  anything  like  accurate 
observations  in  this  quarter  had  thus  far  been 
few  and  limited.  She  had  already  made  up 
her  mind  that  Rivington  was  to  be  set  down 
as  a  silent  force,  though  what  his  silence  con- 
cealed still  remained  unknown  to  her.  If  a 
deep  stream,  he  certainly  ran  with  a  very 
noiseless  current. 

"  Well,  you  have  had  a  very  quiet  time  thus 
far,  have  you  not  .'* "  said  her  cousin,  sitting 
down  beside  her. 

Agnes  thought  w^hat  a  lordly  presence  he 
had  ;  no  king  could  have  looked  more  kingly  ; 
she  had  a  strong  passing  desire  that  he  should 
surprise  her  with  some  noble  mental  qualities; 
she  had  never  before  seen  so  completely  hand- 
some a  man. 

"  It  is  the  calm  before  the  storm,"  she  said. 
"  Or  at  least  so  your  sister  leads  me  to  think." 

"  You  don't  find  yourself  getting  homesick, 
eh?" 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  53 

"  I  have  no  home,  now  —  it  is  all  broken 
up." 

"  Good  gracious !  how  forlornly  you  say  that ! 
You  must  recollect  that  you  've  brought  to 
New  York  your  Lares  and  .  .  .  what 's  the 
name  of  the  other  fellows  ?  You  're  going  to 
begin  all  over  again." 

Agnes  shook  her  head,  with  a  rather  mourn- 
ful smile.  She  looked  round  at  the  luxurious 
room,  glowing  with  rich  draperies  and  costly 
bric-a-brac.  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  must  leave 
my  household  gods  behind  me,"  she  said,  with 
more  bitterness  than  she  knew  of.  *'They  are 
too  old-fashioned  ;  they  don't  correspond  with 
your  modern  embellishments." 

"Pshaw,"  laughed  Rivington,  "we'll  stow 
them  away  in  some  corner  for  you." 

Agnes  again  shook  her  head,  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  slighting  old  friends,"  she  said,  softly. 

"  But  you  're  going  to  make  lots  of  new 
ones." 

She  raised  her  brows  a  little ;  it  was  a  sort 


54  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

of  winsome  mannerism  with  her.  "  Am  I  ?  " 
she  said.     "  I  wish  that  I  thought  so !  " 

"You  must  n't  be  hard  to  please." 

"  Have  you  found  me  so } "  she  asked, 
quickly. 

*'0h,  we  are  cousins.  We  were  ready-made 
friends  as  soon  as  we  met." 

"That  is  nice  and  kind  of  you.  I  shall  re- 
member it."  Agnes  spoke  very  seriously, 
now.  "Tell  me,  cousin  Rivington,"  she  went 
on,  leaning  a  little  toward  him  with  graceful 
appeal,  "  what  is  your  idea  of  a  friend  ?  " 

Rivington  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  Oh," 
he  said  presently,  in  his  mellow,  agreeable 
voice,  "  it 's  a  young  lady  who  does  n't  mind 
tobacco-smoke."  And  then  he  laughed  his 
gentlemanly,  sweet-toned  laugh.  "  It  seems 
odd  to  smoke  here,  among  all  these  fineries, 
does  n't  it }  But  Augusta  always  lets  me. 
Shall  you  mind }  "  He  had  taken  out  a  dainty 
little  cigarette-case  made  of  tortoise-shell. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shan't  mind,"  said  Agnes. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  55 

Several  hours  later  Rivington  saw  his  sister. 
He  had  returned  from  the  club  ;  Mrs.  Leroy 
was  reading  a  novel  by  the  rose-shaded  lamp. 
Rivington  had  had  his  nocturnal  soda-and- 
brandy ;  he  never  exceeded  two  glasses  ;  at 
his  time  of  life  it  was  not  prudent ;  this  was 
one  of  the  continent  virtues  that  made  his 
club-advocates  declare  him  so  "solid,"  "supe- 
rior," and  generally  admirable. 

"  I  had  a  chat  with  Agnes,  to-night,"  he 
said,  jovially.  "  Now  I  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Augusta,  there  's  a  good  deal  in  that  girl,  after 
all." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  caustic  em- 
phasis, looking  up  from  her  book,  "there  is  a 
good  deal  in  that  I  wish  was  out." 

Perhaps  an  hour  previously,  Agnes  had 
finished  her  letter  to  the  Cliffes,  begun  on  the 
preceding  night.  One  of  her  new  sentences 
ran  thus :  "  I  think  that  I  have  '  placed '  my 
cousin  Rivington." 


III. 

HE  days  of  Agnes's  enforced  quietude 
went  by.  The  indispensable  ward- 
robe appeared ;  she  was  considered 
ready  to  appear  also.  Mrs.  Leroy  had  issued 
cards  for  a  gigantic  afternoon  reception.  It 
was  to  beo'in  at  three  o'clock  and  end  at  six. 

''  I  have  invited  four  young  friends  to  re- 
ceive with  me,"  Mrs.  Leroy  had  said  to  Agnes 
at  lunch,  on  this  same  day.  "  They  will  be 
without  bonnets,  like  ourselves.  Try  and  be 
down  by  about  half  past  two,  my  dear.  We 
will  all  meet  in  the  drawing-room.  You  are  to 
stand  at  my  side  and  receive  with  me,  you 
know.  If  you  don't  always  catch  the  names, 
it  will  make  no  matter.  There  are  a  great 
many  of  them  that  I  shan't  catch  myself." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  57 

Agnes  had  partially  lifted  a  morsel  of  cold 
chicken  to  her  lips  ;  she  let  it  fall  untasted 
upon  her  plate.  *'Do  you  really  mean,"  she 
said,  "  that  you  shall  not  know  your  own 
guests  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  my  dear.  It  is  always  that 
way  when  one  has  been  a  long  time  out  of 
society,  as  I  have  been.  I  shall  be  quite  sure 
of  everybody ;  I  shall  know,  of  course,  that 
I  have  asked  nobody  who  ought"  not  to  have 
been  asked." 

Agnes  looked  bewildered.  "  I  do  not  see 
how  you  will  know  it,"  she  said. 

*'  Oh,  it 's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world. 
You  see,  I  manage  it  in  this  way.  I  want  to 
receive.  I  go  to  Mrs.  Van  Courtlandt  Max- 
well, who  is  my  near  relative.  She  has  been 
keeping  the  thing  up  ;  she  has  actively  enter- 
tained.    I  borrow  her  list." 

"  Oh,"  said  Agnes,  "  that  is  very  simple." 

"  Not  quite  so  simple  as  you  suppose.  Mrs. 
Maxwell  is  a  trifle  democratic.      Besides,  she 


58  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

has  personal  likings ;  certain  people  have 
courted  her  and  elbowed  themselves  into  her 
favor.  I  scan  her  hst  with  a  wary  eye  ;  I 
observe  the  new  names ;  I  make  inquiries. 
More  than  this,  I  borrow  another  list." 

"  That  makes  the  affair  more  complicated," 
said  Agnes,  resuming  her  cold  chicken. 

"  My  second  list,"  continued  Mrs.  Leroy, 
with  explanatory  frankness,  "was  Mrs.  Will- 
iam J.  Brown's.  It  sounds  like  a  very  usual 
sort  of  name,  does  it  not }  But  Mrs.  WilHam 
J.  Brown  is  immensely  particular.  She  has  to 
be  ;  she  began  with  nothing  except  money, 
and  has  only  won  her  way  by  the  most  adroit 
nicety  of  selection.  If  I  find  anybody  on  Mrs. 
Maxwell's  list  who  is  not  on  Mrs.  Brown's,  I 
become  a  trifle  suspicious.  I  have  the  utmost 
confidence  in  Mrs.  Brown's  horror  of  new  peo- 
ple ;  she  is  a  new  person  herself.  She  tells 
me  just  who  the  strugglers  are." 

"  It  is  a  very  remorseless  proceeding,"  said 
Agnes,  "isn't  it.?     It  is  like  the  roll-call  at 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  59 

the  French  Conciergerie  —  only  in  a  reversed 
way.  You  chop  off  the  heads  of  all  the  poor 
plebeians." 

"  I  draw  my  pencil  through  their  names." 

*'  That  is  a  more  honorable  death  ;  they  die 
by  lead." 

"Of  course,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Leroy,  "there 
is  the  old  steady  stock  whom  one  knows  about. 
There  is  always  that  in  our  society,  no  matter 
what  is  said  to  the  contrary.  The  mushrooms 
will  spring  up,  but  there  is  sure  to  be  the  good 
solid  soil  beneath  them." 

Agnes  looked  at  her  plate.  "  I  have  heard 
that  mushrooms  are  usually  found  in  barren 
soil,"  she  said,  slyly.  "  But  that  may  be  only 
a  botanical  myth." 

Just  then  Rivington  appeared  at  the  lunch- 
table,  looking  a  little  handsomer  than  usual. 
He  wore  a  close-fitting  frock-coat  discreetly 
faced  with  silk,  and  a  delicate  rosebud  in  his 
button-hole  ;  he  was  attired  for  the  reception. 

"  I  am  all  dressed  for   the  coming   crush," 


60  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

he  announced,  looking  pleasantly  at  Agnes. 
"  How  do  you  like  me  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  like  you  to  be  crushed,"  said 
Agnes  ;  "it  would  be  a  great  pity." 

''Yes,"  said  Rivington  ;  "  especially  for  my 
rose.  Don't  you  think  it  nice  '^.  I  had  a  good 
deal  of  difficulty  in  choosing  it.  I  wanted  a 
very  young  bud,  you  know,  —  something  ap- 
propriate to  your  first  appearance  in  society. 
You  must  glance  at  it  while  you  're  receiving 
with  Augusta  ;  it  will  remind  you  of  your  im- 
portance." 

"But  I  shall  be  expected  to  talk,"  said 
Agnes,  lightly,  ''and  a  rose  is  the  symbol  of 
silence." 

"  Is  it .?  "  said  Rivington.  "  Oh,"  he  added, 
"  I  am  sure  you  '11  find  plenty  to  say.  I  am 
beginning  to  think  that  you  always  do." 

Mrs.  Leroy  insisted  upon  lending  Agnes 
her  maid,  Fran^oise,  for  the  making  of  her 
cousin's  toilet.  Frangoise  had  a  shrewd  eye 
as  to  deficiencies  in  costume,  and  deft  fingers 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  6 1 

for  working  their  remedy.  Agnes  took  all  her 
suggestions  complaisantly.  When  there  were 
no  more  to  be  offered  she  went  down-stairs 
into  the  drawing-rooms. 

"Do  I  satisfy  you  ?  "  she  asked  of  Mrs.  Le- 
roy,  who  glided  forward  to  meet  her. 

"  Perfectly,"  was  the  answer.  Into  a  few 
brief  moments  her  cousin  had  condensed  a 
prodigious  amount  of  severe  critical  scrutiny. 
She  now  came  closer  to  Agnes,  and  took  her 
gloved  hand  :  she  wore  the  famous  black  satin 
of  which  we  have  heard  Madame  Fourbellini 
speak,  and  its  glassy  shimmer  gave  her  slender 
figure  a  serpentine  litheness.  Her  cold-cut 
face  was  glowing.  "  You  are  an  immense 
success,  my  dear!"  she  exclaimed.  And  then 
she  kissed  Agnes  on  the  cheek.  "  Come," 
she  went  on,  "let  me  show  you  your  bouquets. 
You  have  received  five." 

She  led  her  cousin  to  a  small  table,  that  was 
overloaded  with  flowers.  "  Here  is  a  big  bunch 
of  violets,"  she  began,  "  from  my  cousin  Livvy 


62  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Maxwell.  Was  n't  it  nice  of  him  to  send  it 
you  ?  Then  Rivington  gives  you  these  yel- 
low roses,  and  the  red  ones  are  from  another 
cousin  of  mine,  a  Mrs.  Alexander  Van  Tassel; 
and  these  lilies-of-the-valley  are  a  little  gift 
from  myself.  And  the  white  roses ;  I  had 
forgotten  those,  —  they  are  from  Mr.  Oscar 
Schityler,  an  old  friend  of  my  late  husband." 

Agnes  looked  down  at  the  resplendent,  odor- 
ous mass  with  glistening  eyes.  She  said  noth- 
ing ;  she  had  forgotten  to  speak.  But  pres- 
ently she  looked  up,  saying  quickly  :  "  It  is  too 
bad  to  leave  them  like  that.  They  must  be 
put  in  water." 

Mrs.  Leroy  laughed  a  little.  '*  They  must  be 
held  in  your  hand,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "That 
is  always  the  custom.  The  more  you  have  the 
better.  Five  will  make  a  very  pretty  little  par- 
terre for  you  to  bow  over." 

*^  But  I  would  rather  not  spoil  such  rare, 
beautiful  flowers." 

**  They  are  meant  to  be  spoiled.     It  would 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  63 

be  an  incivility  to  all  the  senders  if  you  put 
them  in  water." 

Agnes  placed  her  head  slightly  on  one  side. 
She  was  still  staring  down  at  the  flowers  ; 
their  balmy  glories  seemed  to  enthrall  her. 
"  I  am  half  tempted  to  be  uncivil,"  she  said. 

A  little  later  the  four  young  ladies  who  were 
to  receive  with  Agnes  and  Mrs.  Leroy  entered 
the  room.  They  came  flocking  in  together  to 
meet  the  debutante,  with  IMrs.  Leroy  moving  in 
front  of  them.  They  were  all  in  misty,  float- 
ing garments,  and  carried  bouquets.  The  first 
to  whom  Agnes  gave  her  hand  was  enchant- 
ingly  pretty  ;  she  had  a  mirthful,  plump  face, 
of  almost  perfect  modeling  ;  she  wore  little 
clusters  of  pansies  all  about  her  dress  ;  she 
was  something  like  a  pansy  herself.  Her  name 
was  Miss  Marie  Van  Tassel. 

Next  came  a  tall  girl,  with  an  arched  nose 
and  flaxen  hair  ;  she  was  extremely  thin,  and 
wore  several  ropes  of  pearls  for  a  necklace, 
that   produced   an    effect  of   artistic    conceal- 


64  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

ment.  Agnes  thought  her  an  alarmingly  aris- 
tocratic figure.  She  was  presented  as  Miss 
Olivia  Brown,  a  daughter  of  the  Mrs.  William 
J.  Brown  of  whom  Agnes  had  already  heard. 

Next  followed  a  slight  girl,  with  a  remarka- 
bly small  head,  and  features  that  would  have 
made  a  pretty  combination  if  they  had  not  all 
seemed  a  few  inches  too  near  together.  She 
had  a  look  of  vacant  amiability,  and  she  ap- 
peared a  trifle  ill  at  ease.  This  was  Miss  Ju- 
liet Lothrop,  a  celebrated  heiress,  whose  pos- 
sessions were  spoken  of  as  something  very 
nearly  incalculable. 

Finally  a  young  lady  came  forward  and 
shook  hands  with  Agnes,  mentioning  her  own 
name  as  Miss  Meta  Schuyler  before  i\Irs.  Le- 
roy  had  a  chance  of  doing  so.  She  had  the 
air  of  being  considerably  older  than  any  of 
her  companions ;  you  would  have  said  that 
she  was  possibly  six-and-twenty.  She  was  ir- 
resistibly lovely ;  her  oval  face  was  lit  with 
warm  brown  eyes,  and  her  large  figure  had 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  6$ 

a  delicious,  exuberant  symmetry.  But  she 
struck  Agnes  as  faultily  self-possessed.  It 
was  the  repose  of  weariness.  It  had  a  kind 
of  graceful,  pathetic  mechanism.  You  felt 
that  she  had  entered  hundreds  of  other  rooms 
just  as  she  entered  this  one  ;  her  youth  and 
beauty  wore  too  worldly  a  touch  ;  the  dew  was 
gone  from  the  flower,  though  all  its  best  tints 
yet  remained. 

Conversation  at  once  began  among  the  va- 
rious ladies  who  now  stood  about  Agnes.  It 
was  not  specially  general  conversation ;  there 
were  fluent  little  bursts  of  dialogue  on  all 
sides.  Asfnes  felt  that  she  herself  had  al- 
most  nothing  to  talk  about,  but  everybody 
else  seemed  to  find  talking  a  very  easy  proc- 
ess. Her  new  acquaintances  had  all  roused 
her  interest,  as  most  human  beings  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact  were  apt  to  rouse  it.  As 
yet  the  impulse  could  have  no  concern  with 
sympathy ;  it  was  only  an  active  curiosity  to- 
ward closer  personal  observation. 
5 


66  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"This  is  your  first  appearance  in  public, 
is  n't  it,  Miss  Wolverton  ? "  said  Miss  Marie 
Van  Tassel,  the  young  lady  with  the  pansies, 
in  a  tone  of  rattling  buoyancy.  "Well,  we 
have  all  of  us  just  come  out  into  society,  you 
know,  except  Meta  Schuyler,  there.  Take  my 
advice,  and  don't  feel  a  bit  frightened.  I 
did  n't  care  a  feather  last  week,  when  I  came 
out,  and  now  it  seems  like  several  seasons 
ago." 

"Nothing  ever  frightens  you,  Marie,"  said 
Miss  Olivia  Brown,  the  thin  girl  with  the  high 
nose  and  pearl  necklace.  She  spoke  with  a 
mincing  calmness.  She  was  looking  at  Ag- 
nes, or  rather  at  Agnes's  toilet.  Mrs.  Leroy's 
cousin  felt  that  the  gaze  was  somehow  a  ran- 
sacking one,  and  that  the  smallest  detail  of 
her  wardrobe  was  being  mercilessly  scanned. 
"  For  my  part,"  she  went  on,  in  her  neat,  ex- 
act semitone,  "  I  think  it  very  disagreeable  to 
be  stared  at  for  three  or  four  hours." 

"Yes,"  said  Agnes,  "the  staring  must  be 
unpleasant." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  67 

"  I  love  it ! "  exclaimed  Marie  Van  Tassel, 
smelling  her  bouquet.  "  If  people  choose  to 
look  you  out  of  countenance,  why,  let  them. 
But  I  got  a  stiff  neck  at  home  last  week  from 
bowing  so  much.  And  then  the  dowagers  that 
'  my  dear  you,'  and  zvill  hold  your  hand,  and 
remember  you  when  you  were  a  baby,  and  all 
that.     They  were  a  frightful  bore  ! " 

"  I  shall  be  saved  any  such  trial,"  said  Ag- 
nes. "  Nobody  is  going  to  remember  me 
when  I  was  a  baby  —  or  at  any  time  what- 
ever. It  is  a  comforting  reflection  for  me  to 
consider  what  a  novelty  I  shall  be." 

Miss  Brown  lifted  her  eyebrows.  Agnes 
was  convinced  that  she  had  shocked  her  a 
little;  it  had  somehow  been  written  by  fate 
that  she  should  produce  this  effect  on  Miss 
Brown  ;  she  had  seen  it  coming. 

"  I  think  that  the  dowagers  whom  one 
meets  are  mostly  charming,"  said  Miss  Brown. 
"  They  make  us  remember  that  society  here 
in  America  has  something  solid  about  it.     I 


68  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

should  like,  though,  if  we  had  titles  here,  as 
they  have  abroad.  Titles  are  so  nice  and  dig- 
nified." 

"  I  have  heard  that  they  do  not  always  dig 
nify,"  said  Agnes,  with  one  of  her  smiles. 

"  Titles  !  "  exclaimed  Marie  Van  Tassel. 
''  Oh,  I  adore  them  !  I  mean  to  marry  one,  if 
I  can.  They  say  American  girls  are  all  crazy 
about  them.  I  'm  sure  that  I  am.  I  love  a 
handle  to  one's  name.  It  makes  it  so  much 
easier  to  carry." 

''Ah,"  said  Agnes,  "you  forget  that  the 
handle  is  not  of  much  account  if  the  pitcher 
leaks." 

Marie  Van  Tassel  and  Olivia  Brown  both 
looked  father  puzzled  for  a  moment.  Then 
the  first  young  lady  broke  into  a  gay  laugh. 
But  the  other  remained  perfectly  grave.  "  She 
has  made  up  her  mind  to  disapprove  of 
me,"  thought  Agnes,  with  inward  amusement. 
Marie  Van  Tassel  wheeled  suddenly  about 
like  a  sportive  child,  raising  both  of  her  fat. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  69 

pink  shoulders.  "  I  hope  you  are  going  to 
have  dancing,"  she  said  to  Agnes,  after  this 
coquettish  gyration  was  completed.  "  Recep- 
tions are  so  dull  without  it." 

"  I  have  not  heard  whether  we  shall  have 
it,"  said  Agnes. 

"Dancing  has  its  disadvantages,"  said  Miss 
Brown,  primly.  "You  are  sometimes  forced 
to  dance  with  gentlemen  whom  you  do  not 
like." 

''/never  am,"  said  Marie.  ''I  do  just  as  I 
please  about  that.  I  tell  all  sorts  of  bold  fibs. 
I  say  '  Oh,  please  excuse  me  —  I  'm  so  tired,' 
and  dance  with  somebody  else  a  moment  aft- 
erward." 

"That  is  not  etiquette,"  said  Miss  Brown. 

''  Oh,  bother  etiquette,"  laughed  Marie.  "  I 
mean  to  enjoy  myself." 

"Yes,  Marie  always  manages  to  do  that," 
said  Miss  Juliet  Lothrop,  the  heiress,  wreath- 
ing her  little  pinched-up  face  in  a  transient 
smile.     She  looked  at  Agnes    almost   plaint- 


70  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

ively.  "  Miss  Van  Tassel  has  so  much  small- 
talk,"  she  continued.  "  I  envy  people  with  a 
great  deal  of  small-talk  ;  don't  you,  Miss  Wol- 
verton  ? " 

"  I  should  n't  want  it  to  be  my  most  envi- 
able point,"  said  Agnes,  evasively. 

''  But  you  have  to  have  it,  you  know,"  said 
Juliet  Lothrop,  very  seriously.  ''  It  saves 
you  from  being  a  wall-flower."  She  spoke 
with  a  strong  lisp,  and  her  voice  had  a  piping 
note  in  it  that  was  not  unhke  the  bleat  of  a 
lamb.  *'  They  tell  me  that  I  must  n't  be  a 
wall-flower,  whatever  I  do." 

"  Not  even  if  you  are  a  well-trained  one  ?  " 
asked  Agnes. 

^'Tm  anight-blooming  cereus  !  "  cried  Ma- 
rie Van  Tassel,  merrily ;  "  except  at  recep- 
tions, and  then  I  'm  a  four-o'clock  !  " 

Agnes  found  herself  beginning  to  have  an 
odd  pity  for  Juliet  Lothrop.  It  seemed  to 
her  as  though  this  young  girl  were  laboring 
under  a  gentle  resentment  for  some  sort  of 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  7 1 

unmerited  abuse.  "Are  you  not  fond  of  fash- 
ionable life  ?  "  she  questioned. 

Miss  Lothrop  gave  a  thin,  joyless  little 
smile.  "  I  am  trying  to  be,"  she  said.  "  Mam- 
ma says  I  shall  like  it  better  after  a  while. 
I  'm  very  timid  ;  I  can't  help  it.  I  've  always 
been  nervous  ;  they  say  that  is  because  I  'm 
not  very  strong.  When  I  was  younger  I 
was  ever  so  ill ;  they  did  n't  expect  me  to 
live." 

Agnes  could  not  help  fancying,  on  general 
principles,  that  the  decline  had  only  been  ar- 
rested midway.  Still,  she  had  taken  a  com- 
passionate liking  for  Miss  Lothrop  ;  she  even 
felt  a  certain  congeniality  toward  the  girl. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  because  we  are  both  a  little 
out  of  our  element,"  she  inwardly  decided. 

Very  soon  afterward  there  sounded  a  por- 
tentous rolling  of  carriages  in  the  street  out- 
side, and  before  many  moments  the  arrivals 
came  thick  and  fast.  Agnes  received  her  ^ve 
bouquets  from  Mrs.   Leroy,  and  was  whisper- 


72 


A   HOPELESS  CASE. 


ingly  directed  how  to  hold  them.  Then  she 
took  her  place  near  the  main  door,  at  her 
cousin's  side,  and  the  reception  began  in  full 
force. 


IV. 

HE  drawing-rooms  filled  rapidly;  Ag- 
nes found  herself  bowing  once  a  min- 
ute, or  perhaps  oftener.  Ladies  and 
gentlemen  both  streamed  through  the  spacious 
doorway,  but  ladies  were  in  marked  predomi- 
nance. The  former  mostly  wore  costumes  of 
great  elegance ;  with  some,  the  dainty  bonnets, 
profusely  beflowered  and  of  lightest  tints,  car- 
ried but  faint  suggestion  of  street  habiliment. 
It  seemed  to  Agnes  that  nobody  had  any  wish 
to  talk  with  her.  They  all  smiled  with  prodi- 
gal amiability  as  Mrs.  Leroy  murmured  her 
name,  and  then,  after  a  rather  exaggerated 
courtesy  of  salutation,  passed  on.  Everybody 
appeared  anxious  to  pass  on.  There  was  al- 
ways some  new  arrival,  for  at  least  the  space 


74  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

of  an  hour,  that  had  to  be  made  way  for. 
Delicious  orchestral  music  was  perpetually 
sounding  from  somewhere  in  the  adjacent 
hall.  Agnes  by  no  means  caught  all  the 
names  which  Mrs.  Leroy  repeated  to  her,  and 
it  soon  became  very  apparent  that  Mrs.  Leroy 
in  turn  was  far  from  catching  all  the  names 
which  her  guests  themselves  repeated  as  they 
entered  the  room.  But  this  made  no  differ- 
ence. ''  My  cousin,  Miss  Wolverton,"  was  pro- 
nounced exactly  the  same  by  the  hostess,  for 
an  astonishing  number  of  times.  Mrs.  Leroy 
sometimes  chatted  for  a  moment  with  certain 
new-comers,  and  in  tones  of  such  sociability 
that  her  companion  suspected  it  had  been  a 
relief  to  find  them  people  whom  she  really 
knew.  ''  Are  you  tired  }  "  she  at  length  asked, 
very  much  under  her  breath,  during  a  slight 
pause  in  the  genteel  rush. 

"  A  little,"  said  Agnes. 

"  I  am  horribly  so.  But  it  will  be  over  soon, 
and  then  we  can  move  about.  Recollect  that 
you  know  everybody  now." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  75 

Agnes  wondered  if  there  were  many  whose 
names  she  really  knew.  Just  then  two  gentle- 
men crossed  the  threshold.  One  was  a  small, 
jaunty  man,  who  shook  hands  quite  cordially 
with  Mrs.  Leroy,  and  then  turned  to  his  as- 
sociate, who  lingered  several  paces  behind 
him.  "Allow  me  to  present  Lord  Heathering- 
ton,"  said  the  jaunty  man,  with  extreme  cere- 
mony. 

Lord  Heatherington  was  a  slight  person, 
with  an  aerial  yellow  beard,  bland  blue  eyes, 
and  an  aspect  of  excessive  good  breeding. 
Mrs.  Leroy  bowed  much  lower  than  Agnes 
had  yet  seen  her  bow,  while  she  extended  her 
hand.  "My  cousin.  Miss  Wolverton,"  was 
now  rather  slow  in  coming,  for  she  first  took 
occasion  to  exchange  several  sentences  with 
his  lordship  that  the  music  and  the  surround- 
ing babble  made  it  impossible  for  Agnes  to 
hear.  But  the  words  were  spoken  with  a 
smile  and  an  eager  bending  forward  of  the 
head,  which   revealed   that    her   cousin's   re- 


^^6  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

sources  of  amiability  had  not  yet  put  forth 
their  most  elaborate  efforts. 

Then  Lord  Heatherington  and  his  friend 
were  made  to  know  Agnes,  and  afterward 
they  were  swallowed  up  in  the  throng. 

"A  young  English  earl,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Leroy,  rather  excitedly  for  her,  '^  I  am  very 
glad  to  have  got  him.  He  had  been  promised 
to  me  for  to-day,  but  I  had  begun  to  feel 
doubtful." 

"You  speak  of  him  as  if  he  were  a  piece 
of  spun  sugar,"  said  Agnes. 

"He  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Leroy,  good-humored- 
ly ;  "  he  is  my  centre-piece.  All  the  rest  of 
us  are  side-dishes."  She  made  a  motion  to  a 
gentleman  who  was  not  far  away.  The  gentle- 
man glided  up  to  her  with  graceful  speed.  He 
was  of  middle  stature,  with  golden  curling 
hair,  worn  very  short,  and  a  crisp  amber  mous- 
tache ;  his  dark-blue  eyes  were  softly  express- 
ive, and  his  features  had  the  delicacy  of  a 
cameo.     Agnes  thought  him  a  notably  hand- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  yj 

some  creature  ;  he  did  not  seem  to  her  like  an 
ordinary  flesh-and-blood  man ;  not  that  he  im- 
pressed her  as  being  of  any  superior  species, 
but  simply  that  he  looked  of  airier  and  finer 
physical  make.  It  was  like  seeing  a  slim- 
throated  Parian  urn  contrasted  with  heavy 
pottery. 

"  Livvy,"  said  Airs.  Leroy,  "  ]\Iiss  Wolverton 
thinks  she  has  had  enousfh  of  receiving  for  the 
present.  Won't  you  take  her  where  she  can 
get  a  little  champagne  and  water,  and  sit  down 
quietly,  you  know  .?  "  Then  Mrs.  Leroy  turned 
toward  Agnes.  "  This  is  my  cousin,  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston Maxwell,"  she  proceeded.  "  You  have 
more  than  once  heard  me  speak  of  him." 

Mr.  Maxwell  at  once  gave  Agnes  his  arm. 
"  You  must  be  very  tired,"  he  said,  looking  at 
her  with  his  deep,  sympathetic  eyes. 

"  I  think  I  am  more  dazed  than  fatigued," 
answered  Agnes.  "  But  still  my  bewilderment 
shall  not  prevent  me  from  remembering,  Mr. 
Maxwell,  that  you  sent  me  these  charming 
violets." 


78  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

''  Oh,  how  good  of  you  to  remember  which 
bouquet  it  was,"  he  said,  with  simple  careless- 
ness. "  Here  is  a  nice  retired  seat,"  he  went 
on,  "where  you  can  remain  unmolested  till  I 
get  you  something.     What  shall  it  be  }  " 

"  Only  a  glass  of  water,  if  you  please,"  said 
Agnes.     "I  do  not  care  for  anything  else." 

"You  are  sure  you  don't  want  a  drop  of 
wine  in  it }  Or  could  n't  you  manage  a  bit  of 
ice-cream  .? " 

"Yes,  I  should  like  some  ice-cream.  You 
have  reminded  me  of  just  what  I  do  want." 

Livingston  Maxwell  slipped  away,  leaving  a 
pleasant  sense  with  Agnes  that  after  those 
few  words  they  had  somehow  begun  to  be 
actually  intimate.  She  had  felt  something  in 
his  presence  that  was  like  the  potency  of  a 
spell.  Her  analytic  tendencies  at  once  be- 
came busy  during  his  absence.  Where  was 
the  charm }  Did  it  lie  most  in  voice  or  ap- 
pearance, or  was  it  equally  in  both  }  She 
quickly  found  herself   baffled,  as   more    than 


A    HOPELESS   CASE.  79 

one  of  her  sex  had  been  before  now  by  this 
same  strangely  attractive  personality.  And 
as  yet  Agnes  was  quite  ignorant  that  she  had 
talked  with  the  favorite  of  social  favorites, 
the  reigning  fashionable  star,  the  young  gen- 
tleman of  whom  some  one  had  once  said  that 
untold  flattery  could  only  make  him  more  de- 
lightfully worthy  of  receiving  it. 

He  presently  returned;  he  had  got  a  plate 
of  cream  for  himself  also,  and  dropped  into  an 
opportune  seat  at  Agnes's  side,  a  little  lower 
than  her  own.  "  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you 
how  you  like  society,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sure 
it 's  quite  too  early  for  that  question.  You 
are  tremendously  confused  in  your  impres- 
sions, are  you  not  ?  You  feel  as  if  you  were 
looking  through  a  kaleidoscope  that  somebody 
else  was  turning  much  too  rapidly." 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  "  but  I  hope  it  will  all 
prove  something  better  than  bits  of  painted 
glass." 

Her  companion  threw  back   his  head  and 


8o  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

laughed  like  a  boy.  "Why  distress  oneself 
about  that  ?  Our  cousin  Augusta  says  that 
you  sometimes  say  very  severe  things."  He 
raised  one  finger,  and  shook  it  in  jocose  ad- 
monition. "  This  will  never  do,  I  assure  you. 
We  must  begin  all  over  again  ;  we  must  re- 
form." 

*'I  am  afraid  I  am  too  old  a  sinner,"  said 
Agnes.  "  My  severe  things  are  generally 
true  ones.  Is  society  very  hard  on  you  if 
you  tell  the  truth  t " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of  dance  in  his 
eyes.  "  It  never  forgives  that.  Ah  ! "  he 
added,  shaking  his  head  with  arch  gravity, 
"  you  are  going  into  it  like  a  critic.  Another 
fault  that  it  never  forgives." 

"  How  must  you  go  into  it,  pray  } " 

"As  a  blind  disciple.  You  must  do  what- 
ever it  tells  you  to  do,  in  devout,  unquestion- 
ing faith." 

"  How  does  it  punish  you  when  you  don't 
do  this  1  when  you  are  disobedient .'' " 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  8 1 

"  It  drives  you  to  the  wall." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard,"  said  Agnes.  "  You 
are  made  a  wall-flower  of." 

"  Precisely." 

"  Which  means  that  you  are  generally  ig- 
nored and  neglected." 

"  Yes,  I  am  afraid  it  does.  But  there  can 
be  no  such  disagreeable  possibility  in  your 
case.  Let  yourself  drift  with  the  current. 
It  will  carry  you  along  very  safely." 

"  Is  that  your  own  plan  } "  asked  Agnes. 

Livingston  Maxwell  nodded.  "  Always. 
It  's  my  nature,  too.  I  can't  help  having  a 
jolly  time,  no  matter  where  I  go.  I  can 
amuse  myself  with  anybody.  Of  course  I 
have  my  preferences  —  who  does  n't.?"  He 
broke  into  a  full,  fresh  laugh.  *'  Upon  my 
word,  I  find  the  world  a  remarkably  fine 
place,  and  human  beings  an  immense  suc- 
cess. Now  tell  me  about  yourself,  please. 
Have  n't  you  a  strong  respect  for  sunshine  1 
6 


82  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

I    mean    its    warmth ;    one  need  n't  ask   you 
about  its  brilliancy." 

But  this  honeyed  sort  of  question  received 
no  answer,  for  the  whereabouts  of  Agnes  had 
at  length  been  discovered,  and  people  began 
to  claim  her  conversational  attention,  whether 
from  a  sense  of  duty  or  because  of  her  win- 
ning looks.  Livvy  Maxwell  (as  almost  every- 
body called  him)  stood  at  her  side  for  a  long 
time,  and  many  quick,  private  words  passed 
between  them  during  the  pauses  in  other  more 
ceremonious  talk.  They  sometimes  spoke  of 
the  various  persons  who  approached  Agnes, 
and  then  her  companion's  comments  never 
wore  the  least  sting  ;  he  had  something  kindly 
and  genial  to  say  of  everybody.  After  a  little 
while  Agnes  began  to  place  a  very  high  esti- 
mate upon  his  charity  ;  she  was  herself  con- 
stantly tempted  toward  the  harshest  severities 
of  criticism.  Most  of  the  gentlemen  who 
stood  about  her  were  seemingly  quite  youth- 
ful ;   from    nineteen    to  four  -  and  -  twenty  ap- 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  83 

peared  the  prevailing  age.  A  great  many  dif- 
fering types  were  represented.  Here  was  the 
slim,  blond  tyro,  of  unnatural  height  and  ex- 
treme timidity  ;  he  had  nerved  himself  to 
grapple  with  fashion,  and  he  meant  to  perse- 
vere. Here  was  the  dapper  little  veteran  of 
two  seasons,  who  affected  to  be  forlornly  blas^ ; 
he  spoke  in  a  kind  of  languid  epigram,  and 
now  and  then  smoothed  a  moustache  of  mi- 
croscopic down.  Here  was  the  redundantly 
garrulous  beau,  who  rattled  along  as  though 
silence  were  some  personified  enemy  that  lay 
in  wait  for  him.  Here  was  the  precise  delib- 
erator,  who  went  through  all  his  stock  of  set 
phrases  with  a  suggestion  of  oiled  machinery. 
Here  was  the  acquiescent  stripling,  who  oscil- 
lated between  "yes"  and  "no"  in  solemn  see- 
saw, till  you  were  convinced  that  he  would 
agree  with  you  just  the  same,  were  it  point- 
less platitude  or  daring  paradox.  Here  was 
the  inexorable  listener,  with  whom  to  talk  was 
like  dropping  pebbles  into  a  well,  and  not  hav- 


84  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

ing  any  sound  tell  you  where  they  had  fallen. 
But  every  separate  individuality  bore,  as  it 
were,  a  family  resemblance  to  the  other.  It 
was  somewhat  as  though  you  should  run  your 
eye  along  the  files  of  dissimilar  faces  in  a  reg- 
iment of  soldiers,  whose  uniforms  made  them 
nevertheless  alike.  You  saw  that  all  were  at 
least  well-bred  after  the  same  pattern,  and 
striving  for  one  ideal  of  blameless  deportment. 

"  Most  of  these  gentlemen  are  younger  than 
I  expected  to  find  them,"  said  Agnes  to  Livvy 
Maxwell,  in  cautious  undertone. 

"Oh,  this  is  the  young  clique,  you  know," 
he  answered.  "  Society  is  all  divided  up  into 
cliques.  The  young  men  always  come  to  re- 
ceptions of  this  kind ;  the  older  ones  usually 
yawn  at  the  mere  idea  of  coming." 

"  Are  there  no  distinguished  persons  in  the 
rooms  }  "  asked  Agnes,  looking  round  at  the 
loquacious  throng,  whose  clamors  were  half 
deadened  by  the  music. 

"  Distinguished  }      Oh,   yes,   there  's    Lord 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  85 

Heatherington,  and  the  French  minister,  and 
a  general  or  two  of  the  regular  army,  and  an 
ex-governor,  and  a  bishop." 

"That  is  not  exactly  what  I  mean,"  said 
Agnes.  "  Are  there  any  very  famous  people  .'' 
Great  writers,  for  example,  or  artists  ? " 

Livvy  Maxwell  shook  his  head.  "  None 
whom  I  know  of,"  he  replied.  The  question 
seemed  to  have  puzzled  him  a  trifle  —  or  to 
have  set  him  thinking. 

"  They  are  beginning  to  go,"  said  Agnes. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  say  that  in  a  rather  relieved 
tone.     Are  you  glad  } " 

She  laughed,  with  her  curious  little  raising 
of  the  brows.  "  I  shall  remain  non-commit- 
tal," she  answered,  "  and  make  no  awkward 
confessions." 

"  I  think  it  has  been  a  great  success,  so 
far,"  said  Maxwell,  with  a  meaning  smile.  "  I 
have  enjoyed  it  prodigiously." 

"But  you  always  enjoy  everything.  You 
said  so." 


S6  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

*'  Still,  I  have  my  grades  of  amusement.  It 
is  n't  one  dead-level  of  delight  with  me,  by 
any  means.     Did  you  suppose  that  it  was  ?  " 

She  ignored  his  last  question  ;  she  was 
looking  at  him  with  self-forgetful  directness. 
"  You  have  been  here  with  me  for  a  long 
time,"  she  presently  said.  "  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  have  enjoyed  that,  unless  my  discom- 
fiture has  entertained  you," 

*'  Your  discomfiture  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Oh, 
that  is  delicious  !  The  self-possessed  way  in 
which  you  have  been  managing  matters  com- 
pletely amazed  me.  I  never  saw  anything 
like  it  before." 

Agnes  slowly  nodded  her  head.  '*  That  is 
because  you  never  saw  anything  just  like  me 
before." 

"  Granted  that  you  are  very  original." 

"  Only  because  I  have  gone  astray  into  a 
new  sort  of  world,"  she  said,  softly.  "  I  don't 
at  all  claim  to  be  unique.  I  have  simply  been 
put  where  I  do  not  belong.     Everything  here 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  8/ 

is  strange  to  me.  I  am  not  in  the  spirit  of 
it." 

Maxwell  leaned  closer  toward  her,  with  an 
interested  glow  lighting  his  face.  "  How  does 
it  strike  you  }  "  he  asked. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  It  is  a 
flourish  of  trumpets,"  she  at  length  said,  "  that 
announces  nothing.  I  can  discover  no  mean- 
ing in  it.  I  had  expected  that  it  would  be 
so  different  —  that  is,  before  I  came  here  to 
live." 

"Tell  me  what  you  expected  that  it  would 
be,"  said  Maxwell,  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  her 
face. 

"  I  was  prepared  to  feel  abashed.  I  calcu- 
lated on  no  element  of  flippancy.  I  thought 
the  women  might  be  beautiful  and  the  men 
gallant,  but  I  anticipated  brilliancy,  wit,  learn- 
ing —  the  most  famed  people  of  the  time 
gathering  about  cousin  Augusta,  whom  I  had 
grown  to  fancy  a  sort  of  celebrity  herself.  I 
thought  to  meet   here  minds  whose   works  I 


88  A  HOPELESS  CASE. 

have  read  and  loved,  —  thinkers,  philanthro- 
pists, poets,  dreamers,  —  all  that  is  great  in 
human  intellect  or  human  aspiration  "... 
She  paused  and  looked  about  her,  with  a  faint 
flush  deepening  in  her  face.  "  But  these  very 
words  of  mine  have  an  odd  sound  here,"  she 
added,  with  lowered  voice.  "They  make  a 
discord." 

Livvy  Maxwell  did  not  answer.  His  eyes 
were  so  steadily  fixed  on  Agnes's  profile,  and 
something  seemed  so  thoroughly  to  have  ab- 
sorbed his  attention,  that  he  failed  to  perceive 
the  approach  of  Mrs.  Leroy  until  she  had  be- 
gun addressing  Agnes. 

'*Well,  my  dear,"  said  that  lady,  "you  are 
found  at  last.  I  have  asked  Oscar  Schuyler 
and  one  or  two  other  people  to  dine  with  us 
this  evening.  I  think  you  will  like  Mr.  Schuy- 
ler. He  can  be  immensely  agreeable  when 
he  wants  —  like  dear  Livvy  there.  The  de- 
partures are  beginning.  Had  n't  you  better 
come  and  be  a  little  more  conspicuous }     I 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  89 

would  have  invited  a  few  of  the  young  people 
to  stay  and  make  up  a  German  —  Livvy  leads 
so  well,  you  know  —  if  you  had  only  decided 
to  dance.  Still,  matters  have  gone  off  very 
nicely  as  it  is.  You  seem  to  have  made  a 
charming  impression  ;  I  should  not  dare  tell 
you  all  the  complimentary  things  that  have 
been  said  about  you."  .... 

The  rooms  were  soon  afterwards  nearly 
emptied.  Agnes  went  up  to  her  own  cham- 
ber as  soon  as  the  festivity  was  over.  The 
solitude  seemed  strange  to  her,  but  it  was  re- 
freshing. She  felt  pierced  with  disappoint- 
ment, and  yet  the  wound  had  not  been  un- 
expectedly dealt  ;  circumstances  had  prepared 
her  for  it.  She  seated  herself  before  her  writ- 
ing-desk, in  her  modish,  rustling  dress,  and 
thought  of  beginning  a  letter  to  the  Cliffes. 
But  after  all  her  pen  remained  untouched. 
"  I  might  be  needlessly  bitter  in  my  judgment 
now,"  she  reflected.  ''  I  will  distrust  first  im- 
pressions and  wait  a  little  longer." 


90  .  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

Her  thoughts  left  the  babbling  multitude  of 
which  she  had  so  lately  formed  a  part.  She 
saw  her  aunt,  her  uncle,  and  Marianna  in  their 
new,  remote  home.  Perhaps  they  had  not  yet 
received  her  letter,  and  were  picturing  her  en- 
girt with  the  happy  emancipation  which  they 
had  been  so  sure  that  Mrs.  Leroy's  compan- 
ionship must  afford.  She  could  imagine  how 
her  aunt  might  be  saying,  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, with  a  resigned  smile  that  hid  her  re- 
gret, — "  We  ought  to  be  so  thankful  that 
Agnes  has  gone  to  shine  among  her  equals." 

Marianna  and  Mrs.  Cliffe  had  both  already 
written.  Agnes  opened  her  desk,  took  forth 
their  letters,  and  read  them  for  the  twentieth 
time.  The  close-lined  pages  held  so  little 
about  themselves,  and  breathed  so  deeply  of 
tender  love  for  her !  Now  and  then  there 
were  a  few  sentences  about  their  long  jour- 
ney and  their  present  novel  encompassments  ; 
but  each  letter  was  mainly  a  warm,  unselfish 
congratulation    that   she,  their  treasured  and 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  91 

admired  Agnes,  had  passed  at  length  amid 
that  congenial  sphere  which  her  virtues  and 
talents  merited.  The  unconscious  tears  filled 
Agnes's  eyes  while  she  read,  and  her  heart 
beat  with  the  weary  throb  of  homesickness. 
Just  then  there  was  a  low  knock  at  the  door. 
It  proved  to  be  Frangolse,  who  bore  a  mes- 
sage that  dinner  was  almost  served,  and  that 
Mrs.  Leroy  was  awaiting  Miss  Wolverton  in 
the  drawing-room. 

Agnes  went  down-stairs  shortly  afterward. 
Mrs.  Leroy  and  Rivington  were  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  with  them  was  Miss  Meta  Schuy- 
ler, Mr.  Oscar  Schuyler,  and  a  gentleman  with 
a  small  baM  head,  a  stiff  little  canary-colored 
moustache,  and  very  brisk  movements,  who 
was  presented  to  Agnes  as  Mr.  Gascoigne. 
"  You  and  Mr.  Gascoigne  are  the  only  stran- 
gers, I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  as  Agnes 
seated  herself  after  the  introduction.  "  But  it 
is  his  own  fault,"  she  proceeded,  raising  a  re- 
proachful forefinger  at  that  gentleman.     ''  He 


92  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

got  here  late  this  afternoon,  and  then  rushed 
off  somewhere  else  before  he  had  a  chance  of 
seeing  you." 

"Gascoigne  always  comes  late  and  stays  a 
few  minutes,"  said  Oscar  Schuyler,  who  had 
taken  a  portion  of  the  sofa  where  Agnes  now 
sat.  "  He  has  a  theory  that  even  too  much  of 
a  good  thing  may  be  fatiguing." 

''  He  is  a  comet  with  an  eccentric  orbit," 
said  Aleta  Schuyler,  giving  one  of  her  laughs 
that  always  had  a  ring  of  languor.  "  He  likes 
to  startle  the  fixed  stars." 

"  Well,  he  never  comes  into  collision  with 
them,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy.  *'He  's  too  good-nat- 
ured for  that." 

"  Gascoigne,"  said  Oscar  Schuyler,  cruelly, 
"an  apology  to  Miss  Wolverton  is  in  order. 
If  I  were  she  I  should  insist  on  its  being  a 
very  humble  one,  for  having  so  slighted  her 
at  her  coming-out  entertainment." 

Mr.  Gascoigne,  at  whom  everybody  was  now 
looking,  had  creased  his  small  forehead  in  a 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  93 

funny,  monkeyish  way,  that  almost  completely 
hid  his  twinkling  eyes.  "  Rivington  Van  Cor- 
lear,  my  dear  old  friend,"  he  cried,  "are  you 
going  to  sit  by  and  see  me  thus  publicly 
slandered  in  your  own  house  ?  That  horrid 
cynic  of  a  Schuyler  ought  to  be  suppressed. 
I  exposed  his  incapacity  at  whist,  the  other 
night,  in  three  successive  games,  and  have 
since  been  wounded  by  his  envenomed  fangs 
whenever  the  opportunity  offered.  Don't 
mind  my  detractors,  Miss  Wolverton,"  he  hur- 
ried on,  addressing  Agnes  with  a  galloping 
glibness  that  never  failed  him.  *'  I  came  here 
this  afternoon  prepared  to  prostrate  myself  be- 
fore you  with  the  most  slavish  homage.  But 
I  utterly  failed  to  find  you,  after  an  eager 
search  "... 

"  Of  two  minutes,"  broke  in  Meta  Schuyler, 
with  calm  irony.  Everybody  burst  into  a 
laugh  except  Oscar  Schuyler,  who  quickly  fol- 
\ovved  up  the  persecution  with  cutting  com- 
posure. 


94  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"And  then  he  let  the  French  minister's 
wife  carry  him  off  to  the  Montgomerys'  ket- 
tle drum." 

A  moment  later  dinner  was  announced. 
Oscar  Schuyler  offered  his  arm  to  Agnes ; 
Mrs.  Leroy  and  Mr.  Gascoigne  led  the  way ; 
Rivington  and  Meta  Schuyler  went  in  to- 
gether. 

"  I  think  you  have  no  recollection  of  having 
rhet  me,"  said  Agnes's  companion,  as  they 
approached  the  dining-room,  whose  table  al- 
ready glittered  beyond  back-drawn  velvet  tap- 
estries. 

Agnes  turned  her  candid  look  upon  his  face. 
It  was  dark,  tranquil,  and  aquiline.  "  No," 
she  said.  ''  And  if  I  had  caught  your  name, 
Mr.  Schuyler,  I  should  certainly  have  thanked 
you  for  the  bouquet  which  you  so  kindly  sent 
me." 

"  There  is  a  frank  avowal,"  he  said,  with 
amused  grimness.  "  How  you  will  recover 
from  this  sort  of  thing  when  you  have  been 


A   HOPELESS   CASE, 


95 


out  a  little  longer  !  A  few  months  from  now 
you  will  never  think  of  telling  a  man  that  his 
first  meeting  with  you  created  no  impression 
—  unless  you  want  to  be  unkind." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Agnes,  bluntly,  ''  I 
hope  I  shall  not  be  corrupted  into  speaking 
falsehoods." 

They  were  now  seating  themselves  at  the 
luxurious  dinner-table.  "  Society  knows  noth- 
ing about  falsehoods,"  said  Oscar  Schuyler. 
"  It  calls  them  diplomatic  evasions." 

Agnes  smiled.  "  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Gascoigne 
was  right,  after  all,"  she  said,  "  in  declaring 
you  a  cynic." 

Schuyler  let  his  tiny  silver  fork,  shaped  like 
a  trident,  hover  over  the  moist  drab  of  a  raw 
oyster.  "Do  you  object  to  cynics?"  he 
asked. 

"  Decidedly,"  said  Agnes. 

"  Then  I  will  go  in  for  optimism.  I  will 
cultivate  rosy  views  of  things  from  now  until 
dessert." 


96  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Might  it  not  be  better,  for  your  own  sake, 
if  you  made  the  reformation  permanent  ? " 

Schuyler  started  a  little.  He  may  have  felt 
like  laughing,  but  his  face  kept  a  serious  look ; 
he  was  a  man  who  even  smiled  rarely. 

"  Oh,  I  will  do  anything  you  ask,"  he  said. 
"  Do  you  put  it  in  the  form  of  a  request  t " 

''  No,  I  merely  offer  it  as  a  wholesome  sug- 
gestion." 

"  But  it  is  n't  wholesome  to  be  hypocritical, 
is  it  1  I  'm  such  a  confirmed  old  Diogenes,  you 
know,  that  if  I  got  out  of  my  tub  1  could  n't 
walk." 

"  I  should  like  to  chop  up  your  tub  for 
kindling-wood,"  said  Agnes,  laughing,  "  and 
make  as  cheerful  a  blaze  out  of  it  as  possible." 

Schuyler  had  an  air  of  half-pleased  aston- 
ishment. He  had  been  lounging  through  so- 
ciety for  years,  saying  his  bitter,  bright  things 
wherever  and  whenever  he  chose,  often  piqu- 
ing women  into  liking  him  and  sometimes 
making  men  cordially  hate  him.     Mrs.  Leroy 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  97 

was  one  of  his  allies,  and  among  her  sex  he 
had  not  a  few ;  that  fact  and  his  name  and 
fortune  had  won  for  him  toleration  where  his 
lazy  sarcasms  would  have  made  another  di- 
rectly shunned.  In  a  certain  way  he  was 
feared ;  people  often  cultivated  him  to  gain 
his  good-will ;  the  celebrity  of  his  biting 
tongue  silenced  would-be  adversaries  ;  it  was 
like  the  famed  spear  of  Lancelot,  at  whose 
first  blow,  however  slight,  tough  warriors  went 
down.  He  had  consented  to  pass  through  a 
dinner  at  Agnes's  side,  because  Mrs.  Leroy 
had  put  her  desire  for  him  to  do  so  in  the 
form  of  a  special  request.  He  had  expected 
to  find  her  vapid  and  unsatisfactory,  as  he 
had  found  most  young  girls  during  their  ''first 
seasons."  Still,  it  was  to  be  a  small  dinner, 
and  the  talk  would  be  general.  Gascoigne 
was  to  be  there,  and  Gascoigne  was  always 
diverting.  Then  there  was  to  be  Meta  Schuy- 
ler, his  distant  cousin,  between  whom  and 
himself  a  fitful  and  peculiar  intimacy  had  for 
7 


9$  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

several  years  existed.  After  all,  Schuyler  had 
concluded,  he  could  not  very  well  be  bored 
more  than  usual ;  was  he  not  always  more  or 
less  bored  everywhere  ? 

Agnes  had  given  him  a  sharp  surprise. 
She  was  like  coming  upon  a  fresh,  tinkling 
woodland  stream  where  one  has  expected  to 
find  a  lifeless  pool.  ''  If  you  imagine  that  I 
pose  for  a  cynic,"  he  now  said,  in  his  placid 
way,  "you  are  mistaken.  I  did  n't  know  that 
I  was  one  till  you  told  me  so.  I  have  never 
given  much  attention  to  the  subject  of  what 
I  am.  Miss  Wolverton.  But  I  feel  sure  —  if 
you  will  pardon  the  vulgarism  —  that  I  am 
rather  too  old  a  dog  to  teach  new  tricks." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  more  a  question  of  un-learn- 
ing  than  of  learning  them,"  smiled  Agnes. 
"Or  perhaps,"  she  added,  with  mischievous 
quickness,  "the  dog  should  consent  to  wear 
a  muzzle  now  and  then." 

She  had  read  Schuyler  rather  keenly,  if  not 
thoroughly,  in  these  few  brief  minutes  of  their 


A   HOPELESS  CASE. 


99 


acquaintance.  He  could  not  help  coloring  at 
her  last  words,  they  bore  so  stinging  a  perti- 
nence ;  but  the  demonstration  was  one  which 
his  closest  intimates  had  never  before  seen 
him  make.  The  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Gascoigne 
detected  it  at  once  ;  he  had  a  grudge  against 
Schuyler  because  of  recent  thrusts  ;  his  good- 
humor  was  proverbial,  but  he  knew  how  to 
make  it  serve,  when  occasion  demanded,  as  a 
sort  of  velvet  scabbard  for  satire. 

"Goodness  gracious!  "  he  cried,  in  his  gro- 
tesque, pouncing  manner,  "  what  is  Schuyler 
blushing  about  ?  Why,  it  's  something  phe- 
nomenal, like  an  eclipse  !  I  feel  like  looking 
at  it  through  burnt  glass." 

"  Oscar  would  never  allow  himself  to  be 
eclipsed,"  said  Meta,  carelessly. 

"  He  never  does  good,  even  by  stealth  ;  so 
he  can't  be  blushing  to  find  it  fame,"  rattled 
on  Mr.  Gascoigne.  "  He  has  fame  of  a  very 
different  sort.  I  Ve  found  out  where  all  the 
lost  pins  go  to.      Oscar  picks   them   up  and 


lOO  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Sticks  them  into  people.  We  let  him  enjoy 
himself,  and  it  really  does  n't  hurt  us  very 
much." 

"Not  if  we're  stuffed  with  sawdust,"  said 
Schuyler,  who  had  quite  regained  his  wonted 
self-possession. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  all  are,"  said  Meta  Schuy- 
ler, in  her  soft,  tired  voice.  "The  difference 
is  only  in  the  quahty,  I  begin  to  think." 

"  Oh,  Meta  !  "  exclaimed  ]\Irs.  Leroy,  "  what 
a  horrible  sentiment !  You  will  be  going  into 
a  nunnery  soon." 

"  I  know  more  than  one  poor  fellow  who 
would  like  her  to  take  the  veil,"  said  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne,  with  great  gallantry. 

"That's  pointed,"  said  Rivington,  in  jocu- 
lar comment ;  "  and  very  pretty,  too." 

"  It  does  n't  mean  anything,"  drawled  Schuy- 
ler. "  Whenever  Gascoigne  talks  with  an 
agreeable  woman  he  fills  up  the  pauses  by 
offering  himself." 

The  conversation  flowed  along  with   desul- 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  lOI 

tory  and  hap-hazard  current  until  dinner  was 
ended.  Agnes  felt  as  if  she  had  been  watch- 
ing a  troop  of  colts  scamper  about,  when  the 
ladies  at  length  rose,  leaving  the  gentlemen 
over  their  wines.  She  had  never  before  heard 
such  completely  aimless  talk  ;  it  all  had  the 
artificial  flash  of  gas-lit  tinsel.  She  would 
have  given  a  great  deal,  just  then,  to  hear 
Mariannas  hearty,  boisterous  laugh. 

She  and  Meta  Schuyler  seated  themselves 
on  a  sofa  together  in  the  front  drawing-room, 
and  here  Mrs.  Leroy  joined  them,  remaining 
for  some  little  time,  and  at  length  excusing 
herself.  Perhaps  this  absence  was  intention- 
ally made,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  Agnes 
and  her  dinner-guest  into  closer  acquaintance. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Schuyler's  sister,  are  you 
not .''  "  Agnes  asked  of  her  companion. 

*'  Oh,  dear,  no  !  "  was  the  prompt  reply. 
'*We  are  third  or  fourth  cousins;  I  forget 
which.  Did  you  fancy  there  was  any  resem- 
blance between  us  } " 


102  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Agnes  looked  perplexed.  "No,"  she  said, 
slowly,  "not  a  personal  one." 

"  But  you  thought  us  alike  ? "  questioned 
Meta,  quickly.  She  seldom  spoke  quickly,  or 
seemed  surprised,  as  now. 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  decisively,  "  I  thought 
you  a  little  alike.  It  seemed  to  me  that  you 
look  at  things  in  the  same  way,  somehow  — 
that  you  think  and  talk  the  same." 

"  What  an  idea ! "  said  Meta,  with  her  usual 
repose  oddly  ruffled,  and  a  sort  of  jar  amid  her 
easy  laughter.  *'  Why,  we  are  as  different  as 
the  poles.  Oscar  Schuyler  is  forever  sneering 
—  and  very  often  at  his  betters.  He  is  with- 
out purpose,  ambition,  or  energy.  He  might 
have  been  something  in  the  world,  if  he  had 
chosen,  but  he  has  sunk  into  indolent  failure." 

"  How  bitterly  you  speak  !  "  said  Agnes. 
A  new  idea  had  struck  her  as  she  saw  that 
Meta's  color  had  visibly  heightened,  and  that 
the  lovely  dullness  of  her  brown  eyes  had 
taken  a  liquid  sparkle. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  103 

"  Pshaw,"  said  Meta,  suddenly  becoming 
her  former  languid  self,  "  I  forgot  that  we 
once  took  an  interest  in  each  other,  and  used 
to  give  each  other  advice.  That  is  some  time 
ago,  however.  We  are  still  good  friends,  of 
course.  We  hold  little  chats  at  parties,  you 
know,  and  now  and  then  he  takes  me  in  at 
dinners." 

"  But  you  no  longer  give  each  other  ad- 
vice .'' "  said  Agnes. 

"Oh,  dear,  no!     We  have  got  over  that." 

"  I  suppose  you  agreed  to  disobey  each 
other's  counsels." 

"  Yes.     We  made  a  compact  to  disagree." 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Agnes,  "  did  you  both 
radically  disapprove  of  one  another  } " 

Meta  laughed.  The  self-poised  woman  of 
society  now  breathed  from  every  line  of  her 
graceful  posture,  and  spoke  in  her  serene  face 
bloomy  with  the  delicate  tintings  of  a  pas- 
tel. "You  have  precisely  hit  it,"  she  said. 
"  We   disapproved  of  each   other  very  much 


104  ^   HOPELESS   CASE. 

indeed.  We  almost  came  to  a  quarrel.  But 
we  are  excellent  friends  now,  in  a  certain 
way." 

Agnes  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I  wonder 
if  you  will  be  offended  at  a  question  of  mine," 
she  presently  said. 

"  I  am  not  easily  offended,"  said  Meta,  with 
complaisance. 

"  I  was  thinking  whether  Mr.  Schuyler  was 
as  severe  upon  you  as  you  are  upon  him." 

"  Oh,  a  good  deal  more  so,  I  assure  you. 
He  considers  me  an  enormous  mistake.  He 
declares  that  I  take  nothing  seriously  enough. 
He  once  told  me  that  I  treated  life  as  if  it 
were  a  big  boarding-school,  and  I  was  one  of 
the  pupils  who  felt  homesick,  and  longed  for 
graduation-day.  If  you  knew  him  better,  you 
would  understand  the  exquisite  audacity  of 
this  criticism,  coming  from  a  man  Avho  so  ob- 
viously deserves  it  himself." 

"  And  you  did  not  think  there  was  the  least 
truth  in  what  he  said  1 "  asked  Agnes,  after  a 
pause,  looking  straight  at  her  companion. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 05 

Meta  caught  one  of  Agnes's  hands,  and 
bent  toward  her  a  smiling  face.  **  Upon  my 
word,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  are  delicious ! 
You  are  a  bit  of  the  novelty  that  I  have  been 
wearying  after." 

Agnes  did  not  smile,  but  she  pressed  the 
other's  hand  quite  warmly  for  a  second  or  two. 
"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  knew  that  you  were  weary. 
Will  you  tell  me  what  it  is  that  you  weary 
after  1 " 

Meta  started,  and  dropped  Agnes's  hand. 
*'  Really,"  she  answered,  in  a  very  changed 
voice,  *'  I  don't  think  that  I  know.     Do  you  t " 

Agnes  was  again  silent.  "  Yes,"  she  at 
length  said,  with  a  sweet  positiveness,  "  I  be- 
lieve that  I  do  know.  You  want  more  things 
than  one." 

"  Tell  me  a  few  of  those  that  I  want." 

"  Perhaps  I  will  tell  you  at  some  other  time," 
said  Agnes.  Just  then  the  closed  draperies 
which  hid  the  dining-room  were  parted,  and 
the  gentlemen  came  forth.  Simultaneously 
Mrs.  Leroy  entered  the  room  at  a  side-door. 


I06  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"Ah,  ladies,"  cried  Mr.  Gascoigne,  "you  see 
that  we  could  not  stay  away  from  you  long." 

''  I  think  you  have  stayed  shamefully  long," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"So  do  I,"  said  Oscar  Schuyler.  "  It  was 
Gascoigne's  fault.  He  would  n't  leave  till  the 
Burgundy  was  ordered  from  the  table." 

"  Slander  will  yet  drive  Oscar  to  a  police 
court,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gascoigne. 

"  We  will  go  together,  in  that  case,"  said 
Meta  to  Mr.  Gascoigne,  "and  sit  in  the  gal- 
lery. I  have  always  wanted  to  see  the  inside 
of  a  police  court." 

"Agreed,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  "we  will  go 
and  hiss  the  plaintiff." 

"  I  will  be  merciful,  and  throw  him  a  bou- 
quet," laughed  Mrs.  Leroy.  **  What  will  you 
do,  Agnes  ? "  she  added. 

Agnes  looked  at  Schuyler,  who  had  just 
seated  himself  beside  her.  "  I  will  pray  for  a 
slight  punishment,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  and  an 
early  repentance." 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  10/ 

A  general  laugh  followed  these  words,  and 
before  it  had  subsided  one  of  the  doors  was 
thrown  open  by  the  dignified  butler,  and  a 
gentleman  entered  the  room.  His  coming  pro- 
duced an  immediate  effect  of  discord  among 
these  patrician  figures,  all  clad  so  differently 
from  his  own.  He  seemed  startled,  though 
not  embarrassed,  and  looked  about  him  as 
though  in  search  of  a  familiar  face. 

Agnes  at  once  rose.  "  Mr.  Speed ! "  she 
said. 


GNES  looked  at  Mrs.  Leroy  as  she 
moved  forward  to  welcome  her  friend. 
The  latter  instantly  understood,  and 
followed  her.  When  Agnes  had  shaken  hands 
with  Mr.  Speed,  she  turned  toward  her  cousin 
and  spoke  the  necessary  words  of  introduction. 
Mrs.  Leroy  courteously  extended  her  hand. 
There  was  a  sofa  very  near  Agnes,  and  she 
pointed  to  it,  saying,  "Let  us  sit  here."  Mr. 
Speed  sat  down  beside  her,  and  Mrs.  Leroy 
withdrew  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 

"You  see  I  kept  my  promise,"  said  Mr. 
Speed. 

''That  was  very  good  of  you,"  answered 
Agnes.  She  looked  at  her  friend  and  thought 
what  a  widely  different  world  he  represented 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  109 

from  that  of  the  people  among  whom  he  had 
just  found  her.  He  was  tall  of  stature,  and 
rather  ungainly  in  build.  He  looked  about 
thirty  years  old ;  his  head  was  massive,  and 
over  its  prominent  brow  drooped  thick  folds  of 
straight  black  hair.  His  piercing  black  eyes 
and  ruggedly-cut  features  made  him  seem  a 
person  of  intellectual  force.  He  wore  a  close- 
buttoned  frock-coat  that  fitted  him  rather  ill, 
and  a  pair  of  dark  brown  gloves  that  seemed 
an  inconvenience  to  his  large,  restless  hands. 

"  I  hope  that  I  am  not  taking  you  away 
from  any  of  your  new  friends,"  he  said  to 
Agnes,  in  a  voice  of  such  strong  bass  depths 
that  it  seemed  quite  incapable  of  any  mild 
intonations. 

"  Oh,  they  are  by  no  means  friends,"  said 
Agnes.  "  They  are  only  some  of  my  cousin's 
fashionable  acquaintances." 

Mr.  Speed  looked  across  the  room,  some- 
what furtively,  for  a  moment.  "  They  appear  to 
be  very  fashionable,"  he  said,  seriously.    Then 


no  A  HOPELESS  CASE, 

he  turned  his  eyes  upon  Agnes  so  that  she 
saw  he  was  taking  silent  notes  of  her  festal 
costume.  "And  you  appear  the  same,"  he 
continued  ;  "  I  hardly  recognized  you  in  those 
splendid  garments." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  by  that,"  was  her  an- 
swer. "  But  there  is  no  other  change,  Mr. 
Speed  ;  it  is  all  on  the  outside." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  he 
responded,  with  hearty  directness.  ''Does 
your  new  life  please  you  V  he  went  on. 

''  It  surprises  me,"  said  Agnes. 

Mr.  Speed  looked  once  more  at  the  little 
group  across  the  room.  All  its  members 
seemed  engrossed  in  animated  talk.  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne  was  making  exaggerated  gestures  and 
speaking  with  great  volubility,  while  Mrs.  Le- 
roy  and  Oscar  Schuyler  were  both  leaning 
forward,  apparently  to  contradict  what  the 
gentleman  was  saying. 

''  Does  it  satisfy  you } "  asked  Mr.  Speed, 
doubtfully.     ''  That  was  the  great  point,  you 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  Ill 

know.  You  were  hoping  for  a  congenial  at- 
mosphere when  you  left  Brooklyn." 

Agnes  looked  down  at  the  tangled  roses  on 
the  carpet.  "  Was  I  "i  "  she  murmured.  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  remember  that  I  was."  She  lifted  her 
head  abruptly.  "  Tell  me  what  you  have  been 
doing  since  we  met,"  she  proceeded,  in  much 
brisker  tones.  "  Have  you  been  working  hard  1 
Have  you  finished  your  book  .? " 

"I  have  been  working,  as  usual,"  he  said. 
"All  day  I  have  been  driving  at  things  I  dis- 
like to  do,  and  in  the  evenings  I  have  snatched 
an  hour  or  so  for  congenial  labor." 

Just  then  Agnes  heard  her  name  pro- 
nounced. She  glanced  across  the  room,  and 
saw  Mr.  Gascoigne  coming  toward  her.  He 
had  got  his  forehead  all  into  little  creases, 
and  his  bristly  yellow  moustache  had  gone  up 
under  his  nose,  leaving  the  teeth  to  flash  be- 
neath it ;  he  looked  irresistibly  droll.  ''  Miss 
Wolverton,"  he  said,  "is  this  the  division  that 
so  often  follows  conquest }     Your  cousin  has 


112  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

just  been  telling  me  not  to  come  over  and 
disturb  you ;  but  I  am  very  much  disturbed, 
myself,  by  the  thought  of  this  permanent  sep- 
aration.    We  are  all  disturbed,  in  fact." 

Mr.  Gascoigne  spoke  with  an  immense, 
flowing  ease.  He  was  like  a  gentleman  in 
some  genteel  modern  comedy.  Agnes  had  a 
sense  that  he  had  been  instantly  disapproved 
of  by'  Mr.  Speed.  Flippancy  was  one  of  her 
friend's  aversions,  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
whatever  Mr.  Speed  was  or  was  not,  his  direst 
enemy  could  not  have  called  him  flippant. 
She  wondered,  indeed,  what  the  visitor  at  her 
side  could  be  thinking  of  Mr.  Gascoigne ;  he 
must  seem  to  Bartholomew  Speed  as  a  new 
species  will  seem  to  a  naturalist. 

There  was  now  nothing  for  Agnes  to  do  but 
to  make  the  two  gentlemen  acquainted  ;  and 
this  was  precisely  what  Mr.  Gascoigne  had 
intended  should  be  done.  Mr.  Gascoigne  was 
enormously  civil  in  his  greetings  ;  his  civility 
began  to  prick  Agnes  in  an  uncomfortable 
way  as  she  witnessed  it. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  II3 

"I  suppose  that  you  have  followed  Miss 
Wolverton  over  from  Brooklyn,"  he  said.  "  I 
should  n't  blame  you  if  you  had  followed  her 
from  a  much  greater  distance,  Mr.  Speed,  — 
upon  my  word,  I  should  n't.  I  am  beginning 
to  think  that  I  have  neglected  Brooklyn  most 
culpably.  It  must  be  a  very  remarkable  city, 
if  it  turns  out  such  charming  young  ladies." 
Here  the  speaker  loudened  his  voice  notice- 
ably, and  looked  across  the  room.  ''  I  should 
like  to  show  you  some  of  our  New  York 
ladies,"  he  said ;  "  we  have  two  brilliant  rep- 
resentatives here  at  present.  Miss  Wolver- 
ton, will  you  allow  Mr.  Speed  to  join  our  little 
group } " 

Agnes  felt  that  matters  were  being  carried 
by  storm.  She  would  have  preferred  that  Mr. 
Speed  should  not  cross  the  room,  but  her  ac- 
quiescence had  now  become  a  necessity  ;  Mr. 
Gascoigne's  daring  affability  had  made  it  so. 
She  presently  found  herself  and  Mr.  Speed 
seated    amid    the    small    assemblage   of    her 


114  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

cousins'  friends.  Closer  contact  with  their 
dainty,  felicitous  manners  made  Mr.  Speed's 
angular  roughness  a  more  striking  fact  than 
before.  She  had  a  feeling  that  the  people 
about  him  were  regarding  him  as  a  curiosity 
that  had  no  rightful  place  in  their  midst,  and 
yet  that  they  were  hiding  the  impudence  of 
this  conviction  under  marks  of  the  most  im- 
penetrable good-breeding.  But  Agnes  per- 
ceived the  impudence  clearly  enough ;  she 
wondered  whether  Mr.  Speed  had  caught  a 
hint  of  it.  Possibly  not,  she  concluded,  since 
he  was  a  person  with  a  very  decided  opinion 
of  himself. 

''  Do  you  come  to  New  York  often,  Mr. 
Speed  }  "  asked  Rivington  with  stately  suavity. 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  do  not.  I 
have  very  little  to  bring  me  here." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,"  objected  Schuyler, 
u'ith  a  glance  at  Agnes,  ''or  you  may  offend 
Miss  Wolverton." 

Mr.  Speed  colored  a  little  as  he  turned  to- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  I  15 

ward  Agnes.  Like  Schuyler,  he  was  a  man 
who  rarely  colored,  but  for  widely  opposite 
reasons.  "I  never  found  that  Miss  Wolver- 
ton  was  quick  to  take  offense,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  you  know  a  great  deal  more 
about  her  than  we  do,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne.  "And  you  are  to  be  envied  accord- 
ingly." 

"  Then  you  are  not  engaged  in  any  business 
in  New  York,  Mr.  Speed  }  "  said  Rivington. 

"No,  sir.  I 'm  a  journalist  by  profession. 
That  is  to  say,  I  do  work  for  one  of  the  Brook- 
lyn dailies.  But  besides  this,  I  have  a  few  pu- 
pils whom  I  instruct  in  Greek  and  Latin." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  told  that  to  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne  here,"  said  Schuyler,  in  his  soft,  loiter- 
ing way.  "  He  knows  a  little  Greek,  and  has 
Li  weakness  for  airing  it.  He  '11  be  trying  to 
trip  you  up  on  Homer,  in  a  minute." 

"  Do  examine  him,  Mr.  Speed,"  said  Meta 
Schuyler.  "  We  all  suspect  that  he  has  been 
imposing  on  us  for  years  past." 


Il6  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Speed  wants  to  cut  the  shop  when 
he  's  out  in  company,"  declared  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne.     '' Don't  you,  Mr.  Speed  .?  " 

"  Pray  tell  us  about  your  writing  for  the  pa- 
pers," said  Mrs.  Leroy.  It  seemed  to  Agnes 
that  her  cousin's  eyelids  drooped  more  than 
usual,  and  that  the  corners  of  her  mouth  had 
a  supercilious  touch.  "  I  have  always  won- 
dered how  people  could  write  all  those  clever 
things  that  one  sees.  You  must  have  to  rack 
your  brains  dreadfully;  do  you  not .''  " 

"No,  I  do  not,"  said  Mr.  Speed.  "It  is 
hard  work,  sometimes,  and  I  don't  always  like 
it ;  for  I  often  go  to  it  when  I  'm  tired  with 
other  duties.  But  I  'm  usually  a  good  deal  in 
earnest,  and  have  some  ideas  that  I  think  I 
ought  to  express." 

"  Oh,  you  're  a  reformer,"  said  Mr.  Gas- 
co'gne. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  that." 

"  You  leave  it  for  others  to  say,"  observed 
Schuyler. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  11/ 

Mr.  Speed  fixed  his  keen  black  eyes  full  on 
Schuyler's  face.  "  I  wish  I  deserved  to  have 
it  said  of  me,"  he  answered. 

"  Mr.  Schuyler  and  you  are  kindred  souls," 
broke  in  Mr.  Gascoigne,  with  tripping  volu- 
bility. "  He,  too,  has  made  a  reform.  He 
once  invented  a  salad  that  caused  seven  grate- 
ful fellow-diners  to  shower  their  blessings  upon 
him." 

Mr.  Speed  laughed ;  his  laugh  was  always 
peculiarly  harsh  and  forced,  as  though  humor 
were  almost  an  unknown  trait  in  his  sombre, 
studious  nature.  "  My  reformatory  attempts," 
he  said,  "  are  generally  concerned  with  people 
who  know  nothing  about  salads ;  they  have 
hard  enough  times  getting  meat." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  pretending 
to  look  frightened,  ''  I  hope  you  're  not  going 
to  tell  us  that  you  're  a  communist." 
•  "■  No,"  said  Mr.  Speed,  with  inexorable  se- 
riousness, "I  'm  not  a  communist;  but  I  think 
that   Fourier  "  (he  pronounced  the  word  in  a 


Il8  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

very  English  way)  "  was  a  great  mind,  and  de- 
serves more  recognition  than  he  has  received." 

*'  Take  care,  Gascoigne,"  said  Schuyler,  with 
his  broadest  drawl;  "you  're  getting  into  deep 
water.     You  '11  go  to  the  bottom  presently." 

"  Corks  never  do  that,"  said  Meta  Schuyler, 
who  had  a  caprice,  this  evening,  for  torment- 
ing Mr.  Gascoigne,  —  probably  because  it  in- 
creased his  volubility  and  made  him  more 
amusing. 

Agnes  felt  relieved,  a  little  later,  when  Meta 
had  risen  to  go,  and  a  general  disarrangement 
of  the  group  had  permitted  a  resumption  of 
private  converse  with  Mr.  Speed.  Schuyler 
also  accompanied  his  cousin,  and  Mr.  Gas- 
coigne, though  he  remained,  became  occupied 
with  Mrs.  Leroy  and  Rivington  in  another 
portion  of  the  drawing-room. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  you  have  found  your  visit 
rather  dull,  so  far,"  said  Agnes. 

"  Dull  "i  "  answered  her  visitor,  with  sober 
surprise.     "  I  don't    think   that  is  at  all   the 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  \  19 

right  word.     It  has   been   about  as  lively  as 
anything  I  ever  experienced." 

Agnes  laughed.  "What  is  your  opinion  ?  " 
she  said,  with  ambiguous  brevity. 

Mr.  Speed  echoed  the  laugh,  in  his  hard 
fashion.  "I've  had  no  time  to  form  any," 
he  said. 

Agnes  looked  steadily  at  him.  "  I  think  you 
have  formed  one,"  she  softly  contradicted. 
"I  am  sure  that  I  see  one  in  your  face." 

"It  is  an  impression,  then,  not  an  opinion," 
he  answered. 

"  Well,  an  impression,  if  you  choose.  Shall 
I  tell  you  what  the  impression  is.'' " 

"  Can  you  tell  me  .''  " 

"You  hold  that  you  have  been  wasting  your 
time." 

He  stared  down  at  his  bony,  gloved  hands. 
"  I  have  been  seeing  other  people  waste  theirs," 
he  said.  He  looked  up  at  her,  quite  suddenly. 
''  You  must  be  a  very  disappointed  young 
woman !  " 


120  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

Agnes  kept  silent  for  a  moment.  She  was 
making  perilous  little  creases  with  her  fingers 
in  the  lap  of  her  costly  dress. 

''  I  can't  help  wondering  what  you  mean  to 
do,"  Mr.  Speed  went  on.  Still  Agnes  gave 
him  no  answer.  He  drew  a  little  closer  to 
her.  "  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,"  he 
now  said,  "you  will  not  put  up  with  this  much 
longer." 

She  answered  him  without  lifting  her  eyes. 
"Perhaps  you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Speed." 

A  shade  of  bitterness,  touched  also  with 
dismay,  crossed  his  grave  face.  "  Oh,"  he 
murmured,  ''  you  mean  that  you  will  get  used 
to  it  and  like  it.  They  flatter  you  here.  I 
suppose  all  women  love  flattery,  —  even  the 
best." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  then.  "  They  like 
civility,"  she  said. 

"Well,  I  spoke  unfairly.  I  take  it  back. 
But  that  bald  man  with  the  little  yellow  mous- 
tache is  an  abominable  flatterer." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  I2I 

"I  agree  with  you." 

''Do  you  think  he  means  all  the  strange 
things  that  he  says  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly  not.  They  none  of  them 
mean  anything  that  they  say.  It  is  out  of 
fashion  here." 

"  And  what  they  say  does  n't  often  seem  to 
have  much  meaning,"  observed  Agnes's  com- 
panion, with  the  grim  hesitancy  of  a  man  who 
almost  never  jokes. 

"We  must  pay  them  their  due,"  said  Agnes. 
"They  are  sometimes  funny.  They  some- 
times have  a  flash  of  actual  wit.  They  give 
me  an  odd  fancy  that  they  have  all  been  drink- 
ing something  which  deadens  them  and  en- 
livens them,  both  at  the  same  time.  I  fear 
that  is  not  a  very  clear  simile." 

"  It  is  perfectly  clear.  .  .  .  And  you  are 
going  to  make  these  people  )'Our  constant 
associates  in  the  future }  Shall  you  not  feel 
out  of  place  here }  Why  will  you  not  confess 
that  much.?  I  don't  understand  your  reticence 
on  this  point." 


122  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

**  There  are  things  that  it  is  useless  to  say," 
replied  Agnes. 

"  True.  I  suppose  you  have  written  to  the 
Cliffes.  I  should  have  liked  to  see  your  letters. 
They  must  have  been  rather  homesick." 

Mr.  Speed  shifted  uneasily  in  his  seat. 
'*  Upon  my  word,"  he  said,  with  nervous  ab- 
ruptness, "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you 
are  going  to  do.  I  am  sure  you  have  made  up 
your  mind." 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  very  deliberately,  "  I 
have  made  up  my  mind." 

"You  are  going  to  join  the  Cliffes,"  he  said. 
His  deep  voice  had  a  tremor  in  it,  though  the 
tones  were  lower  than  any  he  had  yet  used. 
''I'm  sorry  for  that  —  I'm  sorrier  than  you 
think  about  —  or  care  about,  possibly." 

Agnes  had  colored  a  little.  She  was  in- 
wardly thrilled  with  surprise.  Those  few 
broken  words  had  seemed  like  a  sharp  revela- 
tion. 

"  It   was    bad    enough    to   have   you   leave 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 23 

Brooklyn,"  said  Mr.  Speed.  "What  shall  I 
do  if  you  put  hundreds  of  miles  between  us  ?  " 

She  smiled  brightly,  but  more  coldly  than 
she  knew.  Her  answer  might  have  shaped 
itself  the  next  instant,  if  Mr.  Gascoigne  had 
not  been  seen  crossing  the  room  in  their  di- 
rection. He  joined  them  immediately  after- 
ward, and  was  at  once  followed  by  Mrs.  Leroy 
and  Rivington. 

"  I  suppose  you  and  Mr.  Speed  have  been 
talking  of  old  times,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne. 
"  Pray  go  on  ;  I  adore  reminiscences." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Gascoigne,"  said  Riving- 
ton, clapping  him  socially  on  the  shoulder, 
*'you  've  a  good  many  that  it  would  be  just  as 
well  to  forget." 

"  Rivington,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gascoigne,  "  I 
did  n't  expect  that  from  you  !  It  's  the  bale- 
ful influence  of  Schuyler.  His  impertinence 
has  affected  the  atmosphere." 

Mr.  Speed  unbuttoned  his  coat  and  took  out 
a  large  silver  watch.  After  glancing  at  it,  he 
rose. 


124  -^   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"Dear  me!"  cried  Mr.  Gascoigne,  "I  hope 
we  have  n't  driven  you  away  !  " 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Speed.  "It's  getting 
late,  and  I  've  a  long  journey  before  I  reach 
home." 

"  Yes,"  said  Rivington,  "  you  've  got  to 
cross  in  the  ferry-boat.     It  must  be  a  bore." 

"  I  am  immensely  glad  to  have  met  you,  Mr. 
Speed,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne,  putting  out  his 
hand.  "  I  trust  there  will  be  an  early  repeti- 
tion of  the  pleasure." 

Agnes  bit  her  lip.  Everybody  had  risen. 
"Good  night,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Speed,  shaking 
hands  with  Mr.  Gascoigne. 

Mr.  Speed  then  turned  to  Agnes.  His  large 
kid-sheathed  fingers  pressed  her  palm  with 
momentary  force.  Then  he  wished  Mrs.  Le- 
roy  good  evening.  Rivington  accompanied 
him  to  the  door  with  gracious  urbanity,  and 
disappeared  at  his  side  into  the  outer  hall. 

"  Shall  you  be  monopolized  every  evening 
after  this  distressing  fashion  V  said  Mr.  Gas- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  I  25 

coigne  to  Agnes,  lifting  his  shoulders  and 
spreading  out  both  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  Brooklyn  is  too  far  off  for  Mr.  Speed 
to  come  every  night,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with 
one  of  her  fresh,  chilly  smiles. 

"And  then  he  is  a  very  busy  person,  I 
should  judge,"  said  Mr.  Gascoigne.  "  He 
seems  quite  without  the  air  of  taking  any  rec- 
reation whatever.  I  don't  doubt  that  he  is  a 
monstrously  clever  fellow,  with  that  remark- 
able head.  But  I  am  afraid  we  spoiled  his 
visit." 

"  That  would  be  too  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy ; 
'*he  might  never  come  again." 

Agnes  looked  straight  at  her  cousin.  "  Oh, 
yes,"  she  said,  mildly,  "  I  think  he  will  come 
again." 

A  moment  afterward  she  rose.  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  Mr.  Gascoigne,  with  a  smile. 
"  I  begin  to  feel  a  little  tired,"  she  said.  "  I 
must  ask  you  to  let  me  go  up-stairs." 


VI. 


Y  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy  to  Agnes, 
on  the  following  morning,  **  we  shall 
go  to  the  opera  this  evening,  and 
afterward  to  a  ball  at  Mrs.  Huntingdon's." 

"  I  have  never  been  to  the  opera,"  said  Ag- 
nes.    "  I  shall  enjoy  it,  above  all  things." 

They  were  sitting  at  breakfast.  The  butler 
had  departed,  and  the  two  ladies  were  alone 
together.  Rivington,  who  always  breakfasted 
an  hour  later  than  his  sister,  had  not  yet  ap- 
peared. Mrs.  Leroy  began  to  stir  her  second 
cup  of  coffee  with  uncharacteristic  haste. 

"My  dear  Agnes,"  she  said,  "pray  let  me 
ask  a  favor  of  you.  Do  not  mention,  I  beg, 
that  this  is  your  first  visit  to  the  opera.  At 
your  age  one  is  expected  to  have  been  there. 


A    HOPELESS   CASE.  12/ 

Such  a  confession  would  simply  cause  need- 
less surprise  in  those  who  heard  it." 

"  Now  that  you  have  warned  me,"  replied 
Agnes,  "  I  shall  not  think  of  making  the  con- 
fession. I  shall  guard  the  truth  like  some 
hidden  disgrace." 

Though  Agnes  had  never  been  to  the  opera, 
she  had  a  keen  musical  sense,  and  played 
some  of  the  best  composers'  work  fairly,  if 
not  brilliantly.  That  evening  the  opera  was 
"Faust,"  and  Nilsson  took  the  role  of  Mar- 
guerite. Agnes  felt  a  childish  delight  as  she 
and  Mrs.  Leroy  entered  their  box,  while  Riv- 
ington  followed,  in  courtly  attendance.  The 
Academy  was  thronged  ;  it  was  what  we  call 
a  magnificent  house,  with  "  standing  room 
only,"  and  very  little  of  that.  All  through 
the  first  act  Agnes  sat  entranced  and  enrapt- 
ured. She  thought  Nilsson  unearthly  in  her 
loveliness,  as  so  many  women  have  thought ; 
the  fantastic  freshness  of  Gounod's  melodies 
thrilled  her  beyond  words  ;  as  the  curtain  fell 


128  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

for  the  first  time  she  remained  quite  still, 
without  turning  toward  Mrs.  Leroy,  who  was 
seated  close  at  her  side.  A  moment  later  she 
heard  her  cousin  say  "  Good  evening,"  and 
on  looking  round  she  perceived  that  Mrs.  Le- 
roy was  shaking  hands  w4th  Oscar  Schuyler. 
Soon  afterward  Schuyler  had  taken  a  seat  just 
behind  Agnes.  The  sound  of  his  low,  even 
voice  struck  her  at  this  moment  as  falsely  dis- 
cordant. What  he  said  to  her  seemed  thin 
and  factitious.  "  I  am  under  the  spell  of  Nils- 
son,"  she  presently  told  him.  "  I  have  not  yet 
descended  to  earth." 

"Please  don't  let  me  drag  you  down,"  said 
Schuyler.  "  I  should  have  it  on  my  conscience 
if  I  did." 

There  was  a  great  flutter  all  about  them. 
Gentlemen  with  spotless  ovals  of  shirt-bosom 
and  snowy  neckties  were  leaning  over  the 
edges  of  boxes,  opening  their  little  doors  and 
entering,  while  the  feminine  occupants,  in  rich 
attire,  bowed,  smiled,  and  talked  abundantly. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  I2g 

Everybody  seemed  to  be  talking  abundantly. 
Agnes  wondered  whether  they  were  making 
"  Faust  "  the  subject  of  their  profuse  loquacity ; 
it  appeared  to  her  almost  inevitable  that  they 
should  do  so.  She  now  discovered  that  Miss 
Olivia  Brown,  with  her  flaxen  tresses  braided 
and  curled  into  the  most  elaborate  complexity, 
and  with  yesterday's  pearl  necklace  wound 
about  her  fleshless  neck,  was  seated  immedi- 
ately at  her  own  left,  while  only  the  velvet- 
topped  barrier  between  the  two  boxes  inter- 
vened. Miss  Brown  was  speaking  to  a  gen- 
tleman who  had  ensconced  himself  on  an  in- 
visible stool  between  herself  and  another  lady, 
and  whose  glossy  blond  head,  seamed  with  a 
white  parting  of  marvelous  exactitude,  scarcely 
reached  above  her  waist.  Agnes  listened  for 
an  instant  to  what  Miss  Brown  was  saying. 
*'  I  suppose  that  you  are  going  afterward  to 
Mrs.  Huntingdon's,"  she  heard  ;  "  everybody 
seems  to  be  going  there."  .  .  .  Agnes  drew  a 
rapid  deduction  that  the  harmonious  charms 
9 


130  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

of  "  Faust "  were  perhaps  not  being  universally 
discussed  in  her  neighborhood. 

She  turned  to  Schuyler,  while  Mrs.  Leroy 
was  occupying  herself  in  close  converse  with 
a  gentleman  who  had  just  taken  the  seat  va- 
cated by  Rivington.  Remembering  her  aunt's 
injunction  of  the  morning,  Agnes  said:  "I 
have  never  seen  this  opera  before.  It  is  like 
a  revelation  to  me.  And  I  have  never  seen 
Nilsson  before.  So  you  can  understand  why 
I  am  transported." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  can't,"  replied  Schuyler. 
"  Nilsson  can  act,  but  she  is  such  a  masculine 
Marguerite.  I  can  only  endure  her  in  the  last 
part  of  the  opera." 

Agnes  remained  silent.  "  Now  I  have 
shocked  you,"  said  Schuyler ;  "  I  see  it  in 
your  face." 

''Yes,"  admitted  Agnes,  "I  am  shocked." 
She  fixed  her  light,  clear  eyes  upon  him.  "  It 
is  like  hearing  some  one  call  '  Hamlet '  a  silly 
play,"  she  said.     "I  don't  know  that  I  could 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  13I 

put  it  stronger,"  she  added,  with  a  bright, 
hard  smile. 

Schuyler  made  a  little  grimace.  "  I  don't 
know  that  you  could,"  he  said.  "  How  in  ear- 
nest you  are  about  nearly  everything !  I  de- 
clared, last  evening,  if  you  remember,  that  you 
would  change  in  a  little  while.  I  think  differ- 
ently now.    The  virtue  cannot  perish  so  easily." 

"You  are  very  good  to  call  it  a  virtue." 
Agnes  lowered  her  voice  a  great  deal.  "  Here 
is  Miss  Brown,  at  my  elbow,"  she  said.  "  She 
is  one  of  the  neophytes,  I  believe.  Is  she  to 
undergo  a  radical  change  during  the  next 
year .? " 

Schuyler  stole  a  furtive  glance  into  the  next 
box.  "  I  wish  you  had  n't  put  her  into  my 
mind,"  he  said ;  ''  I  don't  like  to  think  about 
her  ;  she  irritates  me.  Change  ?  Why,  good 
Heavens  !  that  girl  has  been  steeped  in  snob- 
bery since  her  babyhood.  There  is  no  change 
in  her  possible  ;  she  has  n't  an  idea  outside  of 
her    mother's  '  list ; '   she  is  all  of  one  piece ; 


132  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

you  see  her  to-night  and  you  see  her  always. 
I  used  to  think  her  mother  the  most  deplor- 
able snob  in  the  world,  but  Olivia  is  worse. 
Now  there  is  something  to  admire  about  Mrs. 
Brown  ;  she  has  pushed  her  way  into  notice 
with  masterly  diplomacy  ;  she  should  have  had 
beforehand  all  that  she  has  taken  half  a  life- 
time to  secure ;  she  is  delightful  company ; 
she  's  as  sharp  as  a  Spanish  rapier  and  as  sup- 
ple as  one ;  I  never  feel  quite  sure  whether 
she  is  not  making  a  fool  of  me,  but  I  like  her 
wit  and  shrewdness  all  the  same.  Olivia,  how- 
ever, has  n't  a  vestige  of  her  mother's  brains. 
She  has  never  struggled  for  anything ;  she 
simply  hugs  what  prestige  her  parents  have 
given  her.  She  is  narrow  and  cruel.  Just  at 
present  she  represents  my  reigning  aversion, 
and  I  think  I  have  more  of  those  than  most 
people." 

"But  is  she  to  blame,  after  all,  for  her 
faults  } "  asked  Agnes,  musing.  "  Is  she  not 
merely  the  melancholy  result  of  a  bad  system  } 
She  embodies  the  sins  of  her  parents." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 33 

"With  none  of  their  good  qualities." 

"  Still,  I  think  that  I  could  endure  the 
daughter  better  than  the  mother,"  said  Agnes, 
dryly.  "  Folly  is  always  pardonable  in  a  fool. 
Its  commission  is  so  much  worse  in  those 
from  whom  we  have  a  right  to  expect  wis- 
dom." 

"  Is  that  one  of  your  home-thrusts  1 "  asked 
Schuyler,  looking  across  the  house  through 
a  little  black  lorgnette.  "  I  begin  to  fancy 
that  you  are  always  waiting  a  chance  to  pink 
me,  as  they  say  in  fencing." 

Agnes  did  not  answer.  The  orchestra  had 
recommenced  playing,  and  its  initial  notes 
absorbed  her  attention.  Schuyler  remained 
in  the  box.  Presently  the  curtain  rose,  and 
from  that  instant  Agnes  was  lost  to  every- 
thing save  the  progress  of  the  opera.  She 
soon  found  herself  greatly  annoyed,  however, 
by  the  low-toned  yet  distinct  chat  of  Miss 
Brown,  whose  blond  admirer  still  preserved 
his  posture  of  cosy  devotion.     To  Agnes  this 


134  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

inattention  was  actual  sacrilege.  Her  own 
enjoyment  was  being  sadly  marred  by  it,  but 
even  that  fact  did  not  increase  her  indigna- 
tion, for  the  petty  insolence  seemed  thrown 
at  Gounod's  genius  and  all  the  fine  art  of  his 
present  interpreters.  She  had  no  idea  that 
Miss  Brown  was  doing  an  exceedingly  usual 
thing ;  she  had  never  heard  of  people  presum- 
ing to  talk  at  the  opera.  In  a  little  while  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  what  course  to  take. 
"  Miss  Brown,"  she  said,  leaning  across  the 
partition  which  separated  the  boxes. 

Her  voice  was  just  audible  to  the  young 
lady  whom  she  addressed,  and  no  more.  Miss 
Brown  turned  her  ornate  head,  an  instant 
later,  and  discovered  Agnes. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Wolverton,"  she  said,  and  looked 
inquiringly  at  her  neighbor. 

''I  must  ask  you  to  do  me  a  favor,"  said 
Agnes,  with  a  sort  of  civil  decisiveness  in  her 
lowered  voice.  "  Will  you  please  not  talk 
while  the  opera  is  going  on }  I  need  hardly 
explain  why  I  make  this  request." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  135 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,"  said  Miss  Brown, 
flushing.  "  I  will  keep  silent,  if  you  desire 
it" 

Agnes  turned  her  eyes  once  more  upon  the 
stage.  The  quiet  that  now  ensued  in  Miss 
Brown's  quarter  was  refreshingly  observable. 
About  ten  minutes  elapsed,  and  then  Schuy- 
ler leaned  down  and  whispered  in  Agnes's 
ear : 

*'  What  on  earth  have  you  been  saying  to 
Olivia  Brown  ?     She  looks  furious." 

Agnes  raised  one  finger  admonishingly,  but 
did  not  turn  her  head.  She  was  listening 
with  great  inward  delight  to  an  aria,  which  she 
considered  a  much  more  important  matter, 
just  at  this  moment,  than  any  possible  remark 
from  Mr.  Schuyler  could  be.  It  was  not  by 
any  means  that  she  meant  a  rudeness ;  her 
impulse  was  only  the  quick,  unrepressed  de- 
sire to  prevent  a  painful  interruption. 

When  the  act  was  ended,  Agnes  found  that 
Schuyler  had  vacated  his  seat.     She  remem- 


136  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

bered  what  he  had  told  her  about  Miss 
Brown's  wrath,  and  turned  toward  her  neigh- 
bor. The  white  anatomy  of  the  young  girl's 
shoulders  met  her  gaze,  in  a  full  rear  view. 
"  Miss  Brown,"  she  said,  softly. 

Immediately  the  averted  flaxen  head  changed 
itself  into  a  profile  ;  the  arched  nose  looked 
higher  than  usual,  and  the  prim  mouth  wore 
a  sort  of  pursed  smile.  "  Yes,"  responded 
Miss  Brown,  stiffly  monosyllabic. 

"  I  hope  my  request  did  not  offend  you," 
said  Agnes,  sweetly.  "  I  meant  no  offense,  I 
am  sure." 

Miss  Brown  gave  a  little  treble  ripple  of 
laughter.  "  Oh,  not  at  all,"  she  said.  The 
color  mounted  into  her  thin  face  as  she 
spoke ;  she  was  really  very  aggrieved,  and 
thought  herself  the  recipient  of  an  unwarrant- 
able impertinence.  "  I  trust  that  I  now  have 
your  permission  to  talk } "  she  continued. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Agnes,  with  straight- 
forward good-humor,  "  you  may  talk  as  loudly 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  137 

as  you  please,  now.  But  I  am  afraid  you  are 
still  angry,"  she  proceeded,  "  and  if  so  I  ask 
your  pardon." 

Miss  Brown  bowed  slowly,  with  the  sugges- 
tion of  approving  and  accepting  the  apology. 
Far  from  feeling  nettled  by  her  superb  con- 
descension, Agnes  had  a  strong  sense  of  its 
drollery.  Perhaps  for  no  very  egotistical 
reasons  it  occurred  to  her  that  Miss  Brown 
was  not  a  person  worth  wasting  any  resent- 
ment upon. 

Almost  immediately  afterward,  Mrs.  Leroy 
leaned  down  to  her  and  said,  "  My  dear  Ag- 
nes, I  fear  you  have  done  something  to  hurt 
Oscar  Schuyler's  feelings." 

"  I,  cousin  Augusta  }  " 

^'  Yes,  my  dear,  and  I  think  I  know  what 
it  was.  You  would  not  speak  to  him  at  all 
during  the  last  act ;  you  preferred  listening 
to  the  music,  and  showed  this  very  plainly." 

"That  is  true  enough,"  returned  Agnes. 

"One  can  listen  and  talk  at  the  same  time, 


138  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

you  know  —  that  is,  say  a  few  words  now  and 
then." 

"  I  have  no  such  faculty,"  said  Agnes,  with 
decision. 

"But,  my  dear,"  persisted  her  cousin,  ''ev- 
erybody does  it." 

"Oh,"  said  Agnes. 

"  I  hope  that  if  you  have  any  more  visitors 
this  evening,"  Mrs.  Leroy  went  on,  "you  will 
treat  them  politely." 

"  I  have  treated  no  one  impolitely,"  said 
Agnes,  in  mild  but  firm  contradiction. 

Just  then  two  smart  male  figures  appeared 
at  the  door  of  the  box;  they  were  two  of 
Agnes's  new  acquaintances,  and  they  now 
presented  themselves  with  the  intention  of 
acknowledging  her  cousin's  recent  hospitality. 
One  of  them  remained,  through  the  whole  of 
the  next  act,  in  Rivington's  seat,  for  Rivington 
had  found  it  attractive  to  pass  a  great  deal  of 
time  with  some  friends  in  a  certain  capacious 
proscenium-box. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 39 

Agnes  felt  martyred.  Her  new  companion 
kept  up  an  incessant  flow  of  conversation  that 
ran  no  less  shallow  than  rapid.  She  had  not 
the  least  doubt  that  Miss  Brown  heard  him 
very  distinctly.  Perhaps  she  regarded  him  as 
a  providential  stroke  of  punishment.  Agnes 
could  not  help  wishing  that  Miss  Brown  might 
have  the  power  and  inclination  to  take  this 
tormentor  off  her  hands.  After  Mrs.  Leroy's 
rebuke,  she  felt  compelled  to  give  him  a  fair 
share  of  her  attention.  He  soon  impressed 
her  as  the  incarnation  of  frivolity.  Poor  Ag- 
nes began  to  think  that  fate  had  served  her 
a  very  ill  turn  in  commingling  Gounod's  in- 
spirations with  the  whispered  commonplaces 
that  now  assailed  her  distressed  nerves  almost 
like  hisses  of  pure  malignity.  Her  present 
devotee  was  anything  but  malignant,  however ; 
he  had  a  long,  inane  face,  dull,  kindly  eyes, 
and  an  amazing  ability  to  say  nothing  redun- 
dantly. He  left  at  the  end  of  the  act,  but  a 
confederate  in  persecution  promptly  succeeded 


I40  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

him.  To  the  intense  relief  of  Agnes,  Riving- 
ton  returned  and  reoccupied  his  seat  during 
the  final  stirring  passages  of  the  opera. 

On  leaving  the  Academy,  they  were  at  once 
driven  to  Mrs.  Huntingdon's  ball.  Mrs.  Hun- 
tingdon lived  in  a  spacious  old  house  in  the 
lower  portion  of  Fifth  Avenue.  She  was  a 
little  yellow  old  woman,  who  had  seen  forty 
years  of  New  York  society  under  conditions 
of  more  or  less  active  participation.  It  was 
her  weakness  to  entertain,  and  she  entertained 
with  great  state.  She  always  had  some  excuse 
for  her  festivities ;  she  had  a  number  of  grand- 
children whom  it  was  her  pleasure  to  "bring 
out."  This  evening  a  frail  girl,  with  timid 
blue  eyes  and  a  splendid  burden  of  bouquets, 
stood  bowing  and  smiling  at  her  side.  Agnes 
felt  a  keen  sympathy  with  this  delicate-looking 
debutante y  as  she  was  presented  to  her  and 
passed  on  with  Mrs.  Leroy  among  the  bright- 
clad  assemblage.  She  was  soon  separated 
from   her  cousin.     Several  of   the  gentlem.er 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  141 

with  whom  yesterday's  reception  had  made 
her  acquainted,  flocked  about  her  in  courteous 
devotion.  She  was  glad  to  find  Livingston 
Maxwell  among  this  number,  and  presently 
they  were  moving  arm-in-arm  together  through 
the  crowded  room. 

"This  is  your  first  ball,"  said  her  compan- 
ion; "isn't  it.?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Agnes. 

"Well,  it  is  a  fine  beginning,"  said  Maxwell, 
in  his  cheery  way.  "This  is  a  noble  old  house 
—  a  sort  of  Knickerbocker  house,  you  know. 
The  Huntingdons,  or  their  near  relations, 
have  lived  here  for  an  age.  Have  you  ob- 
served the  ancient  mahogany  doors,  and  the 
prevailing  air  of  antiquity .''  Their  modem 
upholstery  can't  hide  that.  One  doesn't  oft- 
en see  such  spacious  drawing-rooms  in  New 
York.  This  house  was  built  before  property 
'went  up,'  as  they  say.  It  was  once  out  in 
the  country,  you  know.  I  think  it  immensely 
nice  ;  don't  you  }  " 


142  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

"Indeed,  yes,"  said  Agnes.  She  looked 
into  Livingston  Maxwell's  handsome,  beaming 
face  ;  she  thought  how  rare  and  superfine 
was  his  beauty,  and  how  evening-dress  became 
it.  "  You  find  everything  immensely  nice," 
she  added ;  "  I  have  not  forgotten  that." 

"  Oh,  don't  chaff  me  about  my  good  spirits," 
he  said,  with  a  hearty  laugh  that  showed  how 
white  his  teeth  were.  "I  can't  help  them, 
really." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  you  tried,"  said 
Agnes,  eagerly. 

He  gave  a  quick  glance  at  her,  as  they 
moved  along,  ''Well,  that  is  pleasant,  surely. 
You  mean  that  you  like  me  just  as  I  am?' 

"  I  don't  see  how  any  one  could  help  liking 
you,"  said  Agnes,  with  magnificent  frankness. 

Maxwell  shook  his  head.  "  Ah,  you  puzzle 
me  very  much,"  he  declared.  *'  I  can't  make 
you  out.  Sometimes  you  seem  to  mean  noth- 
ing that  you  say,  and  then  you  seem  to  mean 
so  much  more  than  other  people  do.     I  have 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 43 

been  bothering  myself  a  good  deal  about  you 
since  yesterday.  You  won't  believe  it,  per- 
haps, but  I  have ! " 

"  I  am  not  worth  bothering  oneself  about," 
said  Agnes. 

They  were  now  on  the  threshold  of  a  dim, 
odorous  conservatory,  where  huge-leaved  trop- 
ical plants  were  massed  in  delicious  profu- 
sion. They  entered  this  charming  place,  and 
presently  sat  down  below  the  embowering 
greenery.  A  band  was  playing  some  dreamy 
waltz  melody  off  in  the  distance.  Something 
brushed  Agnes's  cheek ;  she  looked  round  and 
saw  that  it  was  a  great  waxen-leaved  camellia, 
orbed  purely  amid  the  glossy  darkness  of  its 
foliage. 

"  It  is  too  bad  that  you  do  not  dance,"  said 
Maxwell.  "  Shall  you  stay  through  the  Ger- 
man .? " 

"  No,"  said  Agnes  ;  ''  my  cousin  has  decided 
not.  The  German  is  the  chief  event  of  the 
evening,  I  suppose  }  " 


144  ^   HOPELESS   CASE. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  think  it  a  fine  invention.  A 
good  many  people  do  not ;  but  I  never  could 
understand  their  prejudice.  Mrs.  Huntingdon 
asked  me  to  lead  it,  this  evening;  so  I  shall 
be  very  affaire  after  supper.  I  shall  have  my 
hands  full,  marshaling  my  forces." 

"  Mrs.  Leroy  tells  me  that  you  nearly  always 
lead  it,  wherever  you  go,"  said  Agnes. 

"  People  ask  me  a  good  deal,"  said  Maxwell. 
''  They  see  that  I  like  the  fun  and  don't  mind 
the  trouble." 

"  But  it  is  thought  an  honor  to  be  asked,  is 
it  not }  "  said  Agnes. 

"  Well,  yes,"  admitted  Maxwell,  with  a  sort 
of  modest  reluctance  ;  ''  I  suppose  it  is.  I  cer- 
tainly want  to  consider  it  so." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  they 
call  upon  you,"  said  Agnes,  reflectively.  A 
new  idea  suddenly  struck  her.  "  Of  course 
you  know  Miss  Brown,"  she  went  on ;  "  pray 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  her." 

"  Miss  Olivia  Brown  }  "  said  Maxwell.      He 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  145 

broke  into  a  laugh.  "  I  am  afraid  she  is  a  tri- 
fle unpopular ;  she  distributes  her  smiles  very 
unequally ;  but  she  is  young  yet,  and  really,  I 
should  prophesy  that  she  will  improve  as  she 
sees  more  of  society.  That  girl  has  not  had 
just  the  best  sort  of  training,  you  know.  But 
I  get  on  famously  with  her  ;  I  humor  her  little 
faiUngs  ;  it  is  not  such  hard  work,  after  all. 
And  I  think  that  she  has  a  good  heart ;  her 
nonsense  is  only  on  the  surface." 

Agnes  kept  silent  for  several  minutes  ;  she 
was  drawing  a  comparison  between  Schuyler's 
pitiless  comments  and  the  sunny  charity  of 
what  she  had  just  heard.  It  had  begun  to  be 
very  plain  to  her  why  Livingston  Maxwell  was 
a  reigning  favorite. 

Mrs.  Leroy  had  made  arrangements  to  leave 
at  the  beginning  of  the  cotillon  ;  but  while  she 
and  Agnes  were  seated  together  eating  ices  in 
the  supper-room,  Schuyler  appeared  and  held 
a  little  low-voiced  conversation  with  his  old 
friend.  ''Just  as  you  please,"  Agnes  at  length 
10 


146  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

heard  her  cousin  say;  and  then  Schuyler 
turned  toward  herself. 

As  their  eyes  met  she  noticed  something 
peculiarly  grave  in  Schuyler's  expression. 
"  Do  you  talk  and  eat  ices  at  the  same  time .'' " 
he  asked,  without  the  shadow  of  a  smile. 

Agnes  understood  the  stealthy  sarcasm,  and 
wanted  to  laugh.  But  she  kept  her  counte- 
nance, and  answered  soberly : 

"It  is  always  hard  to  do  two  things  properly 
at  once.  Still,  I  will  make  an  effort  in  your 
favor.  By  the  way,  has  anything  offended 
you  } " 

''I  have  been  mortally  offended,"  he  replied, 
not  quickening  his  drawl  the  least  in  the 
world.  "  I  don't  like  being  wickedly  snubbed  ; 
what  man  ever  did }  But  I  have  concluded  to 
forgive  you.  Think  of  that.  I  hope  my 
magnanimity  bewilders  you." 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  laughed  Agnes,  "  since 
I  have  not  an  idea  what  should  call  it  forth." 

"  Still  unrepentant  ?  "  said  Schuyler.    "  Well, 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  147 

I  will  try  to  tame  this  haughty  spirit  by 
heaping  a  few  more  coals  of  fire  upon  your 
head.  We  neither  of  us  dance,  and  so  I  have 
asked  your  cousin  to  let  you  watch  two  or 
three  figures  of  the  German  with  me.  She 
consents.     Will  you  ?  " 

Agnes  gave  a  very  ready  consent.  Shortly 
afterward  the  cotillon  began,  and  Schuyler 
found  two  retired  seats  which  commanded  an 
excellent  view  of  it.  A  great  many  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  had  seated  themselves 
in  a  circle  that  ran  completely  along  the  four 
walls  of  one  large  drawing-room.  Living- 
ston Maxwell  and  Mrs.  Huntingdon's  grand- 
daughter were  at  one  end  of  this  circle,  beside 
an  immense  basket  of  flowers  which  was  in 
reality  made  of  innumerable  smaller  bouquets, 
to  be  distributed  hereafter,  during  the  dance. 
Maxwell  was  saying  something  to  his  partner, 
with  his  shapely  head  gallantly  lowered  to- 
ward her.  Whatever  he  said  made  the  young 
girl  laugh  joyfully.      Agnes  wondered  if  the 


148  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

fragile,  timorous-looking  maiden  had  laughed 
like  that  once  before  during  the  evening. 

Presently  Maxwell  rose  with  his  companion, 
and  four  other  couples  rose  also.  They  danced 
for  a  brief  space,  and  then  they  all  separated, 
every  gentleman  choosing  a  lady  and  every 
lady  a  gentleman  from  the  encompassing  ring 
of  sitters.  A  pretty  and  fanciful  figure  was 
now  formed  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  till  at 
length  a  gentle  clap  of  [Maxwell's  hands  dis- 
persed it,  and  sent  its  participants  waltzing 
away  in  many  diverse  directions. 

"  That  will  go  on,  four  couples  at  a  time,  till 
everv'body  in  the  circle  has  danced,"  said 
Schuyler,  explainingly. 

''  It  must  be  very  agreeable." 

"  Sometimes  it  is  very  disagreeable,"  he 
said.  "The  German  is  a  terrible  tyrant  in  its 
way," 

"  A  tyrant  I  I  don't  understand,"  said  Ag- 
nes.    "'  How  can  it  be  anything  of  that  sort  .^  " 

*'  Observe,  and   vou    will  see.     Do  vou  no- 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  1 49 

tice  that  merry  little  Hebe,  Marie  Van  Tassel  ? 
She  has  already  been  taken  out  twice.  It  is 
great  fun  for  her  ;  she  is  a  favorite,  besides 
dancing  well.  Her  seat  is  down  at  the  other 
end'  of  the  cotilloji ;  her  regular  turn  to  dance 
will  not  come  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  yet. 
Meanwhile  she  will  enjoy  herself  vastly.  But 
a  number  of  other  young  ladies  will  be  less 
fortunate  ;  they  will  languish  for  an  extra  turn, 
but  it  will  not  come.  Let  us  select  some  less 
popular  pleasure-seeker.     I  have  found  one." 

"  Is  it  Miss  Brown .?  "  asked  Agnes,  w^ith 
twinkling  eyes.  "I  see  that  she  is  sitting 
there  at  the  right,  with  that  preternaturally 
tall  gentleman." 

"  Horrid  creature  !  "  muttered  Schuyler, 
viciously.  "  No,  it  is  not  she.  Miss  Brown 
will  have  a  fine  time,  this  evening ;  her  parents 
are  social  powers ;  there  are  Browns  and 
Browns,  you  know  ;  besides,  her  ridiculous  airs 
charm  some  of  the  tender  striplings,  who  think 
them  aristocratic." 


150  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

"Will  it  be  Miss  Juliet  Lothrop  ? "  contin 
ued  Agnes,  who  began  to  find  this  unmerciful 
scrutiny  curiously  diverting.     *'  I  see  her  lisp- 
ing something  to  her  partner,  there  by  that 
gilded  cabinet." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Schuyler,  under  his 
breath.  "  She  is,  absolutely,  the  most  perfect 
fool  I  ever  met,  but  she  is  worth  several  dis- 
tinct millions  in  her  own  right.  It  is  just  as 
though  she  had  been  the  object  of  an  absurd 
conspiracy  on  the  part  of  countless  deceased 
relatives  ;  they  have  all  left  her  something 
handsome ;  nobody  quite  knows  the  sum  total. 
That  girl  will  be  engaged  before  the  end  of 
the  season;  and  she  will  marry  rich;  they 
always  do." 

Agnes  looked  shocked  at  this  frigid,  even 
brutal  way  of  putting  things ;  but  she  could 
not  resist  a  smile ;  Schuyler  employed  the 
vtaiivaise  langiie  to  such  atrocious  and  dar- 
ing perfection.  "  Whom  have  you  shadowed 
with  your  unhappy  omen  t "  she  said. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  15 1 

"That  pale  girl  in  pink,  there  at  our  left. 
She  is  considered  of  no  importance  what- 
ever ;  I  don't  specially  know  why,  but  she 
is  n't.  Perhaps  it  is  because  she  dances 
badly ;  perhaps  because  her  parents  do  not 
entertain  ;  perhaps  because  she  cannot  talk. 
One  thing  is  sure ;  she  always  has  a  stupid 
time  everywhere,  and  she  is  lucky  if  she 
secures  a  partner  for  the  German.  You  see, 
she  has  no  bouquet ;  that  is  a  sign  that  she 
has  not  been  engaged  beforehand ;  she  is 
never  engaged  beforehand.  This  is  her  third 
season ;  she  has  been  keeping  it  up  hero- 
ically ;  next  year  she  will  begin  to  drop  off ; 
human  patience  cannot  be  expected  to  do 
more." 

"  Dignity  might  do  a  great  deal  less,"  an- 
swered Agnes.  "  Mr.  Livingston  Maxwell 
is  dancing  all  the  time.  Is  that  because  he 
is  the  leader  } " 

''  Oh,  not  at  all.  Livvy  is  simply  the  best 
fellow  in  the  world.     There  is  a  certain  kind 


152  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

of  merit  that  everybody  acknowledges  and 
values.  There  are  probably  ten  girls  waiting 
now,  with  the  fixed  intention  of  taking  him 
out  when  their  turn  comes.  I  never  heard 
of  anybody  disliking  Livvy;  it  would  be  an 
impossibility ;  he  overflows  with  kindliness  ; 
he  disarms  enmity." 

"  What  is  the  secret  of  his  success  } " 
"Not  caring  to  succeed.  He  has  but  one 
social  aim  —  to  treat  everybody  with  fault- 
less courtesy.  What  a  wonderful  little  gen- 
tleman he  is !  I  never  saw  the  bel  air  so 
admirably  personified.  Pray  watch  him  as 
he  approaches  those  next  four  couples  who 
are  now  to  take  the  floor.  Louis  Qua- 
torze  could  not  have  bowed  better  than  that 
—  I  have  my  doubts  if  he  knew  how  to 
bow  half  as  well.  That  boy  is  the  ideal  of 
good  breeding.  (I  call  him  a  boy  because 
he  is  ten  years  my  own  junior.)  They  tell 
us  that  good  breeding  is  on  the  surface. 
Not  a  bit  of   it,  and   there  is  the  refutation. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 53 

It  is  a  clear  conscience,  a  pure  heart,  and  a 
loving  spirit.  .  .  .   Pardon  my  platitudes." 

"  No,  I  will  not  pardon  them,"  said  Agnes, 
turning  toward  Schuyler  with  kindling  eyes. 
"  I  like  you  better  for  having  one  enthusi- 
asm—  for  believing  in  somebody." 

"  Take  care,"  he  said,  "  or  I  shall  confess 
to  another  article  of  faith." 

"  Pray  do,"  said  Agnes,  impenetrably. 

"  You  might  resent  the  personality." 
•  She  laughed,  gathering   her  brows  a  little. 
"  I    certainly   should,"    she    said.     '*  It    is    so 
painful  to  be  falsely  estimated." 


VII. 


RS.  LEROY  was  in  excellent  spirits 
as  she  and  Agnes  drove  home  to- 
gether, after  the  Huntingdons'  ball. 
If  Agnes  noticed  any  change  in  her  cousin, 
she  was  far  from  tracing  such  change  to  its 
actual  cause.  Mrs.  Leroy  was  in  reality  agree- 
ably disappointed ;  it  was  no  small  matter 
for  a  man  like  Oscar  Schuyler  to  have  sat 
through  a  cotillon  in  the  society  of  Agnes. 
It  had  a  distinct  and  weighty  meaning;  it 
''placed"  the  young  debutante  at  once.  Mrs. 
Leroy  knew  that  it  had  been  no  friendly 
favor  shown  toward  herself ;  Schuyler  was 
not  the  man  to  perform  such  a  disinterested 
sacrifice.  No,  Agnes  must  have  had  the 
good    fortune    to    please    him  —  as    she    had 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  155 

evidently  pleased  Livvy  Maxwell  also.  The 
thing  was  very  gratifying.  There  had  seemed 
a  great  deal  of  peril  in  the  fact  of  Agnes 
being  a  non-dancer  and  making  a  firm  pro- 
test, as  well,  against  learning  to  dance.  "  I 
don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  with 
her,"  Mrs.  Leroy  had  reflected,  not  long 
ago.  "  She  will  never  get  on  unless  she 
dances,  and  I  begin  to  suspect  that  she 
will  not  get  on  in  any  case."  But  now  the 
lady's  fears  had  vanished,  and  her  ominous 
prophecies  were  proven  delightfully  false. 
She  took  it  for  granted  that  Agnes  was  in 
a  triumphant  state  ;  Schuyler  had  the  art 
of  pleasing  women  so  thoroughly  when  he 
tried  ;   of  course  Agnes  had  been  captivated. 

*'  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  as  the  carriage 
rolled  through  the  still,  lamplit  streets,  "  I  am 
curious  to  know  what  you  and  Oscar  Schuyler 
found  to  talk  about.  I  thought  you  had  rather 
annoyed  him  at  the  opera." 

**  To  tell  the  truth,"  said  Agnes,  "  he  rather 
annoyed  me." 


156  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Leroy,  surprisedly. 

"  By  expecting  me  to  give  him  my  attention 
when  I  was  Hstening  to  the  music." 

Mrs.  Leroy  bit  her  lip  in  the  darkness. 
"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  as  I  told  you  to-night,  every- 
body talks  at  the  opera." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Agnes,  a  little  regretfully; 
''  I  found  it  out  to  my  cost." 

Mrs.  Leroy  leaned  back  in  the  carriage. 
She  was  smiling  to  herself.  "  Positively,  Ag- 
nes," she  exclaimed,  "you  have  a  good  many 
things  to  unlearn.  But  you  are  doing  very 
well,  my  dear.  All  in  all,  I  should  say  that 
you  were  doing  remarkably  well." 

"  I  am  glad  if  my  progress  pleases  you, 
cousin  Augusta.  I  wish  that  it  pleased  my- 
self a  little  more." 

But  Mrs.  Leroy  was  not  to  be  pricked  out 
of  her  patronizing  geniality  to-night ;  she  ap- 
proved too  thoroughly  of  Agnes's  recent  suc- 
cess. 

"  I  hope  you  and  Oscar  have  not  quarreled 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 57 

again,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  no  signs  of  it  when 
he  put  us  in  the  carriage.  But  you  have  not 
told  me  what  you  and  he  talked  about." 

"  I  did  very  little  talking,"  said  Agnes. 

"  And  he  t  "  said  Mrs.  Leroy. 

"  He  sneered  profusely  at  nearly  everybody," 
returned  Agnes.  "  I  never  knew  such  an  un- 
compromising pessimist." 

Mrs.  Leroy  gave  a  slight,  sharp  laugh.  She 
was  by  no  means  pleased ;  this  unimpassioned 
criticism  sliocked  her,  when  she  considered 
that  grateful  satisfaction  would  have  been 
much  more  natural,  not  to  say  appropriate. 
*'Dear,  dear,"  she  said;  **you  have  the  most 
downright  opinions  on  all  subjects,  and  no 
hesitation  about  expressing  them." 

**  Oh,  you  are  mistaken  there,"  replied  Ag- 
nes, quickly.  "  I  keep  a  great  many  opinions 
to  myself." 

"  I  think  that  Oscar  likes  you,"  Mrs.  Leroy 
now  said.  "  And  it  i's  useless  not  to  suppose, 
Agnes,  that  his   preference   is  an   important 


158  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

matter  in  a  case  like  your  own.  He  has  in- 
fluence and  distinction,  you  know." 

"  I  wish  he  had  more  charity,"  said  Agnes, 
laughing. 

Rivington  was  seated  in  one  of  the  lower 
rooms  when  the  ladies  returned.  He  had 
waited  up  to  receive  them,  though  he  had  de- 
clined going  to  the  ball.  His  ball-going  days, 
he  affirmed,  were  over;  he  still  had  a  voracious 
appetite  for  all  the  social  gossip,  however,  and 
lay  in  wait  for  its  chance  tidbits  with  eager 
vigilance. 

Agnes  went  up-stairs  almost  immediately 
on  her  return.  Mrs.  Leroy  seated  herself,  for 
a  few  minutes,  in  her  brother's  company. 

"  Well,  how  did  she  get  on  1 "  asked  Riving- 
ton. 

Mrs.  Leroy  shook  her  head.  She  was  gaz- 
ing straight  into  the  near  fireplace,  whose 
crumbled  lumps  of  coal  made  a  dreamy  debris 
of  scarlet. 

''  I  don't  understand  that  girl,"  was  her  re- 
ply.    "  She  puzzles  me  to  death." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 59 

"  What  has  she  been  doing  now  ?  " 

"  She  has  been  having  a  remarkably  nice 
time  —  or  ought  to  have  been.  Oscar  Schuy- 
ler was  simply  devoted  to  her  ;  she  was  alone 
scarcely  a  moment.  And  yet  she  treats  her 
success  with  the  most  matter-of-course  com- 
placency. .  .  .  One  thing,  Rivington  —  she  is 
a  very  clever  girl." 

"Yes,  she  is  very  clever,"  said  Rivington. 
"By  Jove,  Augusta,  now  that  I  think  of  it, 
she 's  tremendously  clever.  And  I  'm  not 
sure,  on  the  whole,  that  I  understand  her  any 
better  than  you  do." 

Rivington  was  making  himself  a  cigarette. 
Mrs.  Leroy  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  swept 
his  profile.  A  smile  of  disdainful  amusement 
flashed  across  her  lips  ;  it  was  a  smile  that 
she  would  not  at  all  have  liked  her  brother  to 
see 

The  next  morning,  shortly  after  breakfast, 
Mrs.  Leroy  made  an  unexpected  announce- 
ment to  Agnes.     "My  dear,"  she  said,  "you 


l60  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

are  asked  to  a  luncheon  to-day.  You  will  go 
with  Meta  Schuyler ;  she  has  promised  to  call 
for  you  at  one  o'clock." 

"  And  are  you  not  going  .?  "  inquired  Agnes. 

"  No,  I  am  not  invited.  It  is  entirely  an 
affair  for  girls.  It  is  given  by  Juliet  Lothrop 
—  the  heiress,  you  know  ;  you  met  her  at  our 
reception." 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  "  I  remember  her.  She 
is  the  young  lady  who  lisps." 

At  one  o'clock  Meta  called  for  Agnes. 
They  were  driven  together  to  the  Lothrops' 
residence,  in  Meta's  coupe.  "  It  is  going  to 
be  a  bore,"  said  Agnes's  companion,  during 
the  ride.     "  These  things  always  are." 

"  Why  do  you  go,  then  .?  " 

Meta  screened  a  yawn  with  one  of  her  lav- 
ender-gloved hands.  She  looked  enchant- 
ingly  lovely  to-day ;  her  bonnet  was  a  tangle 
of  daisies  and  green  knot-grass. 

''  Don't  ask  me,"  she  said  ;  *'  I  have  n't  the 
least  idea  why  I  do  go  —  unless  it  is  to  escape 
from  myself." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  l6l 

''Do  you  care  for  reading?  "  asked  Agnes, 
after  a  slight  silence. 

''  Reading  ?  I  don't  know  how  to  read. 
I  can't  enjoy  the  books  that  I  know  are  best 
for  me.  I  used  to  like  French  novels  ;  I  de- 
voured them  once  ;  my  aunt  always  has  a  lot 
of  them  in  the  house.  But  they  fail  to  enter- 
tain me  now  ;  their  improprieties  have  such  a 
monotonous  kind  of  badness,  and  their  sen- 
timent seems  like  such  vapid  sentimentality. 
.  .  .  But  here  we  are  at  the  Lothrops'.  What 
a  throng  of  carriages  !  " 

There  was  also  a  throng  of  young  girls  in 
the  drawing-rooms  as  Agnes  and  Meta  entered 
them.  Miss  Juliet  Lothrop  had  a  flushed, 
nervous  look.  Agnes  pitied  her  more  than 
ever,  as  she  watched  her  shaking  hands  with 
guest  after  guest,  and  endeavoring  to  achieve 
a  proper  ideal  of  "■  small  talk."  The  pain  of 
the  struggle  made  the  result  seem  more 
meagre. 

Meta  was  very  popular.  Without  making 
II 


1 62  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

the  least  effort,  she  seemed  to  attract  her  own 
sex  beyond  the  power  of  most  women.  Agnes 
stood  beside  her  and  listened  to  the  conver- 
sation. Now  and  then  she  joined  in  it  She 
observed,  presently,  that  Meta  was  talking 
with  a  young  girl  whose  rosy  cheeks  and 
brilliant  black  eyes  suited  the  merry  crispness 
of  her  conversation.  Agnes  felt  won  toward 
the  girl  immediately  ;  her  manners  contrasted 
with  those  of  nearly  everybody  about  her  as  a 
brisk  spring  wind  with  a  dead  summer  fog. 
Presently  she  said  something  to  Meta  in  a 
low  voice,  and  soon  afterward  Meta  turned 
and  presented  her  to  Agnes  as  Miss  Bigsbee. 

The  name  gave  Agnes  a  sort  of  shock  ;  it 
appeared  to  sit  ungracefully  on  its  prepossess- 
ing bearer.  "  I  am  delighted  to  meet  you, 
Miss  Wolverton,"  said  Miss  Bigsbee,  with  a 
sweet,  dimpled  smile.  "  I  saw  you  last  night 
at  Mrs.  Huntingdon's.  What  a  pretty  ball, 
was  n't  it .?  " 

"Very,"  said  Agnes.     ''  It  was  my  first.** 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 63 

"Yes.  But  you  had  had  your  social  chris- 
tening, the  day  before,  had  you  not  ?  I  mean 
at  your  reception.  I  heard  what  a  success 
that  was.  Everybody  seemed  to  enjoy  it  so 
much." 

"Were  you  not  there.?"  asked  Agnes,  in- 
nocently. 

" No,"  said  Miss  Bigsbee.  "I  have  not  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  Mrs.  Leroy.  She  has  not 
been  entertaining  for  several  years,  I  believe. 
I  see  that  they  are  going  in  to  lunch.  Shall 
we  go  in  together.?" 

Agnes  moved  toward  the  dining-room  with 
her  new  friend.  They  sat  together  for  a  con- 
siderable period,  after  this,  partaking  of  some 
refreshment  which  was  supplied  to  them  by  ob- 
sequious attendants  from  a  table  that  groaned 
with  costly  edibles.  Miss  Bigsbee  was  a  light 
and  extremely  desultory  talker,  but  Agnes 
found  her  breezy  gayety  a  pleasant  diversion. 
As  far  as  they  went,  her  good  spirits  appeared 
spontaneous  and  real ;  that  alone  was  a  potent 


164  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

recommendation,  where  the  atmosphere  hung 
so  heavily  charged  with  insincerity. 

"This  promises  to  be  an  unusually  lively 
winter,"  at  length  said  Miss  Bigsbee,  bending 
over  an  ice,  which  she  ate  with  a  fork.  "  I 
suppose,  of  course,  that  you  will  join  the  new 
dancing-class  which  Miss  Brown  is  getting  up. 
You  have  heard  of  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Agnes,  smiling  to  herself  as 
Miss  Brown's  name  was  mentioned.  .  .  .  "Since 
I  do  not  dance,  I  have  probably  been  excluded 
from  the  list  of  members." 

"  Oh,  I  think  not,"  said  Miss  Bigsbee.  "  You 
will  certainly  be  asked.  Indeed,  I  heard  that 
your  name  was  on  the  list.  It  is  to  be  some- 
thing especially  nice  and  exclusive,  I  am  told. 
Each  member  has  the  privilege  of  sending  in 
eight  names." 

"And  have  you  decided  on  your  fortunate 
eight  "i  "  inquired  Agnes. 

Miss  Bigsbee  lifted  her  shoulders,  with  a  sad 
little  smile.     "  I  have  not  been  made  a  mem- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 65 

ber,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  a  great  favorite 
with  Miss  Brown,  I  fear." 

"  Neither  am  I,"  said  Agnes,  dryly. 

"  No  }  But  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Leroy  are 
quite  intimate,"  replied  Miss  Bigsbee.  "  Oh, 
I  am  sure  that  you  are  to  be  made  a  member." 

"  Are  you  perfectly  sure  .^  "  asked  Agnes. 
As  she  now  looked  at  Miss  Bigsbee,  a  sudden 
idea  crossed  her  mind. 

"Yes,"  was  the  response,  "there  is  no  doubt 
of  it  —  no  doubt  at  all." 

Agnes  deliberated  for  an  instant.  "  In  that 
case,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  offer 
you  an  invitation.     Will  you  accept  it  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  you  are  very  good,"  said  Miss 
Bigsbee,  with  the  brightest  smile  she  had  yet 
shown.     "Yes,  I  shall  be  charmed." 

Just  then  Meta  joined  Agnes.  "You  de- 
serted me,"  said  Meta.  "  I  have  been  looking 
everywhere  to  find  you." 

"  Miss  Bigsbee  and  I  have  been  having  a 
chat  together,"  said  Agnes. 


1 66  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Meta  slightly  turned  ;  Miss  Brown  was  at 
her  elbow.  "  Here  she  is,"  said  Meta,  signifi- 
cantly. 

Miss  Brown  approached  Agnes.  She  wore 
a  conventionally  pleasant  smile ;  she  had  on  a 
tiny  black-lace  bonnet  that  was  dotted  over 
with  buttercups,  and  a  costume  that  was  a 
model  of  Parisian  elegance. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you,"  Miss  Brown 
said  to  Agnes,  in  her  prim,  calm  way.  She 
then  lowered  her  voice  so  that  Miss  Bigsbee, 
who  was  standing  quite  near,  could  not  possi- 
bly have  overheard  what  she  was  saying. 

"  You  are  on  the  list  for  the  new  dancing- 
class,"  she  began.  "  Mrs.  Leroy  knows  all 
about  it ;  I  suppose  she  has  told  you." 

Agnes  nodded.  She  felt  an  immense  secret 
amusement.  She  saw  perfectly  that  Miss 
Brown  had  struggled  with  a  severe  antipathy, 
but  that  certain  considerations  had  induced 
her  to  make  the  present  overture. 

"  I  have  heard  that  each  young  lady  has  the 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  1 6/ 

privilege  of  sending  in  eight  names,"  said 
Agnes,  very  amiably.  ''You  are  extremely 
kind  to  ask  me,  Miss  Brown." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  kind,"  murmured  Miss  Brown. 
"  It  is  a  matter  of  course." 

Agnes  felt  more  amused  than  ever,  but  she 
was  careful  to  conceal  the  least  sign  of  it  in 
her  face. 

*'  I  know  so  few  people,"  she  said.  "  You 
will  no  doubt  understand  why." 

'*  Certainly,"  said  Miss  Brown.  "  I  suppose 
Mrs.  Leroy  will  arrange  it  for  you." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Agnes.  Then  she  paused 
for  a  moment,  and  looked  toward  Miss  Bigs- 
bee,  who  was  talking  in  a  very  intimate  man- 
ner with  Meta.  "  Except  in  one  instance." 
Agnes  now  purposely  loudened  her  voice.  "  I 
want  to  propose  Miss  Bigsbee's  name.  Do 
you  know  Miss  Bigsbee  }  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Miss  Brown.  Her  thin, 
prudish  face  had  flushed  a  little.  She  turned 
toward  Miss  Bigsbee,  who  had  heard  Agnes's 


1 68  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

last  words  because  of  their  intentional  clear- 
ness. 

"Miss  Wolverton  is  so  very  kind,"  said  Miss 
Bigsbee,  with  effusive  courtesy. 

"  You  have  no  other  names  to  propose  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Brown,  looking  at  Agnes. 

Agnes  felt  there  was  a  polite  hate  in  the 
look. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "  I  suppose  my  cousin  will 
send  in  the  others." 

Miss  Brown  gave  a  slight  bow  and  moved 
away.  Miss  Bigsbee  burst  into  a  rather  self- 
conscious  laugh.  "■  I  don't  think  Miss  Brown 
Avas  quite  pleased,"  she  said,  appealing  to 
Agnes.     "  Do  you  }  " 

Agnes  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  did  not 
observe,  really,"  she  replied,  with  delicious 
hypocrisy.  "  Miss  Brown  seems  to  be  full  of 
whims.  If  she  makes  me  a  member  of  her 
new  organization,  I  don't  see  why  she  should 
not  empower  me  with  a  member's  rights." 

Agnes    glanced   at   Meta   as   she    finished 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  169 

speaking.  The  latter  was  watching  her  attent- 
ively ;  there  was  a  twinkle  in  Meta's  brown, 
indifferent  eyes.  Not  long  afterward  she  and 
Agnes  left  together,  reentering  the  coiip^. 
When  its  door  was  closed,  and  they  had  be- 
gun their  homeward  journey,  Meta  turned  to- 
ward her  companion. 

"You  have  been  doing  a  fine  piece  of 
mischief ! "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  burst  of 
laughter. 

**Have  I.?"  said  Agnes,  demurely. 

"  Of  course  —  and  you  know  it,  too.  You 
have  agonized  poor  Olivia  Brown.  She  de- 
tests Miss  Bigsbee," 

"  I  have  not  discovered  that  Miss  Bigsbee 
is  at  all  detestable,"  said  Agnes.  "  I  think 
she  is  a  much  nicer  girl  than  Miss  Brown. 
What  is  the  objection  to  her.?" 

Meta  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  shaken 
with  mirth.  She  suddenly  seized  Agnes's 
hand  in  her  own.  "  I  am  glad  not  to  have 
you  for  an  enemy,"  she   broke  forth.     "You 


I/O  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

make  a  much  better  friend.  Oh,  don't  at- 
tempt to  disguise  matters  with  me  —  it  is 
too  absurd  !  You  tried  to  torment  Olivia 
Brown  ;    I  saw  it  perfectly." 

"As  far  as  I  can  make  out,"  said  Agnes, 
with  great  sobriety,  "  Olivia  Browm  tried  to 
torment  Miss  Bigsbee." 

''True  enough,"  said  Meta.  "She  is  op- 
posed to  her  on  aristocratic  principles.  Miss 
Bigsbee  is  deficient  in  the  requisite  ante- 
cedents. She  is  a  clever  girl,  who  has  a 
fashionable  craze  and  nothing  special  to  sup- 
port it.  She  has  made  certain  friends  at 
school ;  she  has  played  her  cards  adroitly, 
and  as  a  result  she  is  seen  almost  every- 
where. But  Miss  Brown  disapproves  of  her, 
and  has  publicly  given  out  that  she  is  not 
to  be  admitted  into  the  dancing-class." 

"  Miss  Brown  has  been  checkmated,"  said 
Agnes,  with  a  sly  smile.  "  Miss  Bigsbee 
has  been  much  cleverer  than  she." 

"  How  }     In  making  use  of  you  "i " 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  1 71 

"  Certainly.  She  saw  her  opportunity  and 
stole  a  march  upon  her  foe.  You  must  ad- 
mit that  it  was  a  skillful  move." 

Meta  burst  into  another  laugh.  'M  admit 
that  you  are  magnificent!"  she  cried.  "I 
only  wish  we  had  one  or  two  more  of  your 
sort  to  wake  us  up  !  .  .  .  But  wait  till  you 
tell  Mrs.  Leroy  what  you  have  done.  She 
will  never  forgive  you  ! " 

"That  will  be  terrible,"  said  Agnes.  "But 
I  shall  insist  on  Miss  Bigsbee's  membership, 
all  the  same.  I  would  n't  disappoint  her  for 
the  world." 

Meta  left  Agnes  at  her  cousin's  door. 
"  Well,  my  dear,  was  the  lunch  a  suc- 
cess .? "  asked  Mrs.  Leroy,  meeting  Agnes 
as  she  entered  the  hall. 

They  went  into  one  of  the  side-rooms  to- 
gether. "  Upon  my  word,'  said  Agnes,  sink- 
ing rather  wearily  into  an  arm-chair,  "  I  don't 
think  I  have  learned  yet  to  tell  a  success 
when  I  see  one.  There  were  no  gentlemen 
there." 


1/2  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"No,  certainly  not  —  at  a  girls'  luncheon." 

"There  were  innumerable  girls,"  continued 
Agnes.  "Among  others.  Miss  Bigsbee.  You 
don't  know  her,  I  believe ;  she  said  that  you 
did  not." 

Mrs.  Leroy's  lip  curled.  "  She  is  quite 
right.  And  I  have  no  intention  of  making 
her  acquaintance,  either.  She  has  pushed 
herself  almost  everywhere,  but  she  shall  not 
thrust  her  name  upon  my  list.  Everybody 
is  laughing  at  her  tremendous  efforts.  I 
hope  you  will  not  be  civil  to  her,  Agnes. 
She  is  a  very  objectionable   young   person.'* 

"  Your  warning  comes  too  late,"  said  Ag- 
nes. "I  have  been  very  civil  to  her."  And 
then  she  told  Mrs.  Leroy  just  how  civil  she 
had  been. 

Mrs.  Leroy  tossed  her  head  a  little,  and 
squared  her  shoulders,  when  Agnes  had 
ended.  She  had  been  watching  her  cousin's 
face  most  intently.  Agnes  expected  a  lady- 
like explosion  ;   but  none  came. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 73 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  instead,  "I 
shall  be  obliged  to  know  Miss  Bigsbee  now. 
But  it  is  certainly  aggravating." 

"  Miss  Brown  will  find  it  so,"  said  Agnes, 
''and  I  confess  that  I  am  malicious  enough 
to  feel  glad  that  she  will.  I  have  n't  much 
mercy  for  Miss  Brown,  and  I  have  a  good 
deal  for  Miss  Bigsbee.  I  am  quite  willing 
to  have  given  the  latter  a  helping  hand,  as  it 
were.  She  has  more  brains  than  most  of 
the  girls  with  whom  she  wishes  to  associ- 
ate ;  she  must  be  a  valuable  addition  at  their 
assemblages.  If  she  wants  to  elbow  her  way 
among  them,  it  can't  be  called  a  very  digni- 
fied desire ;  but  neither  is  it  dignified  for 
Miss  Brown  to  battle  so  stoutly  against  her 
entrance." 

"  You  abominate  Miss  Brown,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy,  looking  fixedly  at  Agnes ;  "  don't 
you .? " 

"  Oh,  no,"  laughed  Agnes,  "  though  there 
are  things  about  her  that  jusf  miss  being 
abominable,  I  should  say." 


174  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

A  smile  was  trembling  on  Mrs.  Leroy's  lips. 
Miss  Brown  was  no  favorite  of  hers,  and  there 
was  something  about  Agnes's  tranquil  recital 
of  how  she  had  taken  justice  into  her  own 
hands  and  pitted  herself  against  this  cold- 
blooded snob  that  struck  the  lady  as  rather 
delightful. 

"  Well,"  Mrs.  Leroy  now  said,  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders,  "you  have  forced  me  upon 
your  side,  Agnes,  at  any  rate.  I  suspect  you 
calculated  that  I  \vould  be  obliged  to  support 
you." 

Agnes  raised  her  brows  somewhat  archly. 
"  Yes,"  she  admitted,  with  perfect  gravity,  "  I 
did  count  upon  your  support,  cousin  Augusta.'* 
Then  a  peculiar  smile  stole  to  her  mouth  and 
stayed  there  for  a  few  seconds.  "  But  in  be- 
lieving you  would  stand  by  me  at  this  im- 
portant period,  I  hope  that  I  have  not  under- 
estimated the  required  sacrifice." 

Mrs.  Leroy  burst  out  laughing.  "  For 
Heaven's  sake,"  she  cried,  "  leave  poor  Olivia 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  175 

Brown  alone  after  this.     She  is  no  match  for 
you,  Agnes  ;  you  know  it  perfectly  well." 

At  the  same  moment  an  involuntary  belief 
seized  Mrs.  Leroy  that  under  most  ordinary 
circumstances  Agnes's  match  would  be  rather 
difficult  to  discover. 


VIII. 

HE  evening  of  this  same  day  Agnes 
and  her  cousin  passed  at  home.  Liv- 
ingston Maxwell  came  to  pay  them  a 
visit,  and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  he 
asked  Agnes  to  drive  with  him  on  the  follow- 
ing afternoon. 

''  Thanks,"  said  Agnes,  "  but  I  shall  be  en- 
gaged.    I  am  going  to  a  wedding  in  Brooklyn.'* 

''  Shall  you  make  the  journey  quite  alone  }  " 
asked  Maxwell,  interestedly. 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  I  wish  that  I  had  been  invited.  I  should 
like  very  much  to  accompany  you." 

"  You  can  do  so  if  you  wish,"  replied  Agnes. 
"  It  will  give  you  a  new  experience.  It  is  to 
be  held  in  an  obscure  little  church,  and  it  is  to 
be  altogether  an  obscure  little  affair." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  lyj 

Maxwell's  eyes  sparkled.  "  If  you  will  let 
me  go  with  you,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  it 
above  all  things." 

So  the  matter  was  settled.  He  and  Agnes 
went  to  Brooklyn  on  the  following  day.  After 
leaving  the  ferry-boat  they  took  an  intermina- 
ble jinghng  journey  in  the  cars.  They  alighted 
to  find  themselves  in  a  very  pretty  locality. 
The  houses  were  chiefly  low,  skirting  a  broad 
avenue,  full  of  trees  that  must  have  bean  capa- 
ble of  a  most  agreeable  summer  shade.  Some 
of  the  residences  were  wooden,  contrasting 
quaintly  with  the  stone  buildings  that  adjoined 
them.  Not  a  few  had  tracts  of  garden-land 
about  their  doorways,  and  occasionally  some 
palatial  structure  rose  from  the  midst  of  an 
ample  lawn. 

"This  is  my  first  trip  to  Brooklyn,"  said 
Maxwell,  gayly,  as  they  walked  along.  "  I  am 
very  pleasantly  impressed,  I  assure  you.  I 
suppose  it  is  a  remote  portion  of  the  city, 
judging  from  the  long  ride  we  took." 


1/8  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Yes,  it  is  decidedly  remote,"  said  Agnes. 
"  It  is  almost  suburban." 

*'  How  quiet  everything  seems,"  Maxwell 
commented.  "  But  it  looks  like  a  rather  pros- 
perous quarter." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  genteel  poverty 
here,"  said  Agnes. 

''  Poverty .? " 

''  Well,  something  very  near  it,"  was  the  an- 
swer. "  See  what  an  unpretentious  plainness 
many  of  the  houses  have.  People  live  prettily, 
here,  on  incomes  that  would  only  give  them 
one  or  two  narrow  rooms  in  a  New  York 
boarding-house.  The  young  girl  whose  wed- 
ding we  have  come  to  witness,  and  who  was  a 
friend  of  my  cousin,  Marianna  Cliff e,  belongs 
to  a  family  whose  yearly  means  of  subsistence 
would  not  keep  many  of  your  grand  friends  in 
pin-money.  I  remember  when  the  wedding 
was  first  discussed.  They  cannot  afford  a  re- 
ception at  home  ;  they  are  so  poor  that  they 
must  watch  how  ever}^  dime  goes.    The  mother 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  IJ() 

and  three  daughters  can  just  manage  to  make 
a  creditable  appearance  in  church ;  but  you 
shall  see  what  a  creditable  appearance  they 
will  make.  They  are  lovable,  refined  women  ; 
matters  will  be  conducted  with  the  utmost 
modesty ;  they  will  avoid  the  least  false  dis- 
play, knowing  that  in  their  case  it  would  be 
empty  vanity,  if  not  vulgarity  as  well.  .  .  . 
Here  we  are,  at  the  church.  Is  it  not  a  cosy 
little  structure  } " 

"  It  looks  like  a  country  church,"  said  Max- 
well. "It  is  charmingly  picturesque.  Those 
two  big  willows  at  the  entrance  must  be  beau- 
tiful in  the  summer  time." 

There  were  only  three  or  four  carriages 
waiting  before  the  spireless  Gothic  chapel. 
Its  interior  was  wrought  with  tasteful  sim- 
plicity ;  a  sweet,  dim  light  filled  it,  as  Maxwell 
and  Agnes  passed  inside,  among  the  quiet, 
assembled  throng. 

"What  a  contrast  to  the  last  wedding  at 
which  I  assisted,"  Maxwell  whispered.     *'  That 


l80  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

was  held  at  a  fashionable  church  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  There  were  three  ministers ;  the 
bride  had  eight  bridesmaids,  and  I  don't  know 
how  many  ushers.  She  was  only  eighteen, 
and  she  married  an  old  widower,  past  fifty, 
with  an  immense  fortune.  I  suppose  the 
groom  of  to-day  is  a  young  man." 

"  About  twenty-three,"  said  Agnes.  "  He 
has  a  small  clerkship  somewhere  in  Brooklyn. 
It  is  a  desperate  love-match  on  both  sides  ;  he 
has  been  saving  up  with  all  his  best  energy 
for  three  years.  I  am  sure  they  are  to-day 
one  of  the  happiest  young  couples  in  Chris- 
tendom." 

"I  envy  them,"  said  Maxwell,  boyishly, 
«  don't  you  .?  " 

"  How  some  of  your  friends  would  laugh  if 
they  heard  you  say  that !  " 

"  Pshaw,  let  them  laugh.  I  know  a  few  that 
might  be  glad  to  change  places  with  your 
friend  and  her  lover." 

*'I  am  afraid  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Agnes 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  l8l 

"  They  don't  believe  in  love-matches  over 
there." 

Maxwell  looked  steadily  at  Agnes  for  a  mo- 
ment. Just  then  the  mellow  notes  of  the 
hidden  organ  began  to  sound  a  tender  wed- 
ding-march. "/  believe  in  them,"  said  Max- 
well ;  "don't  you  .?  " 

Agnes's  face  grew  very  grave.  "  I  think 
that  anything  else  is  simply  horrible,"  she 
said.  ..."  But  here  is  the  bride.  We  were 
just  in  time." 

The  small  arched  doors  at  the  end  of  the 
central  aisle  were  thrown  wide  open  ;  the  organ 
loudened  its  rhythmic  tones  ;  a  slim,  youthful 
man,  looking  demoralized,  as  bridegrooms  usu- 
ally look,  appeared  with  a  gray-haired  lady 
on  his  arm,  clad  in  dark  silk.  Behind  them 
came  the  bride,  leaning  on  her  father's  arm. 
She  was  extremely  pretty  ;  her  cheeks  burned 
rosily,  and  her  eyes  were  downcast.  Her  dress 
was  of  some  pale,  silver-gray  fabric,  and  she 
wore  a  bonnet  of  the  same  tint,  with  one  or 


1 82  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

two  gauzy  pink  roses  relieving  it.  Behind  her 
bonnet  you  saw  a  knot  of  golden  hair  that  had 
broken  into  little  rebellious  curls  along  her 
white,  bended  neck.  Then  followed  her  two 
sisters,  both  younger  than  herself.  They  wore 
the  plainest  walking-costumes  ;  one,  a  mere 
girl,  had  even  sunnier  hair  than  the  bride's, 
that  fell  in  tw^o  long,  childish  braids  down  her 
back. 

The  minister,  an  elderly  man,  with  a  meek, 
genial  face,  came  down  from  above  the  altar 
to  meet  the  wedding  party,  clothed  in  his 
white  episcopal  surplice.  The  bride  and  the 
groom  took  their  places  before  him  ;  the  par- 
ents and  the  two  sisters  grouped  themselves 
on  either  side. 

"Does  n't  she  look  lovely.'*"  whispered  Ag- 
nes to  Maxwell,  as  the  ceremony  began.  "  She 
made  every  stitch  of  that  dress  herself." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  murmured  her  com- 
panion, as  though  he  had  heard  some  wondrous 
revelation. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 83 

After  the  marria2:e-service  was  ended,  all 
the  guests  left  their  seats  and  went  forward  to 
congratulate  the  bride.  Agnes  could  not  fail 
to  observe  how  many  pairs  of  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her  companion  as  they  pressed 
their  way  up  the  crowded  aisle.  Maxwell's 
beauty  was  of  that  rare,  striking  order  which 
set  him  apart  from  his  kind ;  Agnes  felt  proud 
of  having  him  near  her,  not  because  he  was 
the  admired  favorite  of  that  other  world  from 
which  she  had  brought  him,  but  because  his 
cordial,  courteous,  sympathetic  look  made  the 
high-bred  ease  of  his  manner  place  its  pos- 
sessor in  singular  harmony  with  all  sur- 
rounders. 

Agnes  at  length  shook  hands  with  the  bride 
and  her  new  husband  ;  she  greeted  each  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  too,  taking  care,  of  course,  to 
present  Maxwell  in  turn  to  all  the  bridal  party. 
They  were  very  glad  to  see  her,  and  evidently 
looked  upon  her  coming  as  a  valuable  mark  of 
attention.     But  Agnes  soon  found  that  they 


V 


1 84  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

were  greatly  impressed,  also,  by  the  coming  of 
Maxwell.  He  had  not  spoken  five  words  to 
the  bride  before  her  face  lighted  anew  ;  he 
leaned  over  and  w^hispered  something  in  the 
ear  of  the  groom  which  caused  a  hearty  out- 
burst of  laughter  from  its  recipient ;  he  held 
the  hand  of  the  bride's  mother  in  his  own  for 
a  moment,  and  won  the  gentle  lady's  heart,  as 
Agnes  plainly  saw,  before  the  first  amiable 
sentence  had  left  her  lips. 

"  Oh,  what  a  splendid  young  gentleman  he 
is ! "  murmured  the  young  girl  with  the  gold- 
en braids  enthusiastically  to  Agnes.  **  Do  tell 
me.  Miss  Agnes,"  she  went  on,  "is  he  very 
devoted  to  you  } " 

Agnes  looked  wonderingly  at  the  child  for 
an  instant.  Then  she  burst  out  laughing,  but 
not  the  least  gleam  of  heightened  color  touched 
her  cheeks.  "Yes,  Carrie,"  she  said;  "he is  a 
great  deal  more  devoted  than  I  deserve ;  but 
not  in  the  \N2iy  yo7c  mean." 

"  Oh,   I  am   sorry  for   that ! "   said    Carrie, 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 85 

Stealing  a  shy  look  at  Maxwell.  "  I  've  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  him." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Agnes,  merrily,  and  with- 
out a  tinge  of  embarrassment. 

After  a  few  earnest  questions  had  been 
asked  and  answered  concerning  the  absent 
Cliffe  family,  Agnes  and  Maxwell  drew  aside, 
and  the  bridal  party  left  the  church.  The 
guests  soon  followed  ;  just  as  Agnes  neared 
the  door  she  perceived  Mr.  Speed  stationed  in 
the  outer  vestibule. 

He  presently  joined  her.  "This  is  unex- 
pected enough,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  ;  "  I 
did  not  suppose  you  would  be  here." 

"  Why  not  ">  "  said  Agnes. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  your  New  York  engage- 
ments would  not  give  you  time."  In  Mr. 
Speed's  intonation  there  was  a  latent  trace  of 
bitterness. 

"  I  have  made  time,"  replied  Agnes.  She 
turned  and  introduced  Maxwell  to  Mr.  Speed. 
The  latter  looked  surprised  for  a  moment,  and 


1 86  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

a  shade  of  annoyance  also  crossed  his  face  ; 
he  had  seen  Agnes  at  such  a  distance  away 
that  Maxwell's  companionship  had  escaped  his 
notice. 

He  onty  said  a  few  more  words  to  Agnes  ; 
these  were  inaudible  to  Maxwell,  who  pres- 
ently heard  her  respond,  however,  "  To-mor- 
row evening  ?  Very  well ;  I  shall  be  happy  to 
go  with  you."  .  .  .  Then  Mr.  Speed  bowed  to 
Maxwell,  shook  hands  with  Agnes,  and  turned 
away. 

"That  man  looks  as  if  he  took  everything 
in  tremendous  earnest,"  said  Maxwell. 

**  He  does.  I  don't  think  he  ever  has  a  light 
moment.  He  has  always  had  to  struggle  hard 
for  a  living.  He  worked  his  own  way  through 
college,  graduating  very  high  there.  Now  he 
writes  for  a  newspaper,  and  teaches  pupils  be- 
sides. I  sometimes  believe  that  the  world  will 
hear  of  him  one  day ;  he  is  at  work  now  upon 
a  very  deep  book,  —  a  philosophic  book.  But 
if  he  never  succeeds  it  will  be  because  "... 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  18/ 

"  Well  ? "  said  Maxwell,  as  Agnes  hesitated  ; 
"  because  ? "  .  .  . 

''  His  own  heavy  seriousness  will  crush  him. 
There  is  no  cheerful  leaven  in  his  nature. 
He  could  not  take  a  mental  holiday  if  he  tried. 
He  reminds  me  of  a  plant  that  creeps  away 
from  the  sun  of  its  own  accord.  Perhaps  he 
will  find  a  hand  to  draw  him  gently  back  again 
into  its  light,  however.  That  may  come ;  I 
hope  so." 

"  You  mean  a  woman's  hand  } "  said  Max- 
well. 

''Yes." 

"  Are  you  and  he  very  good  friends  }  " 

"Very,"  said  Agnes.  She  turned  suddenly, 
and  looked  at  Maxwell.  *'But  nothing  more," 
she  added,  almost  sharply.     "  Oh,  dear,  no !  " 

"  He  is  not  the  favored  one,  then  } " 

Agnes  shook  her  head.  *'  There  is  no  fa- 
vored one  with  me,"  she  answered. 

Maxwell  laughed  as  they  walked  along  ;  it 
was  a  short,  odd  laugh,  not  given  in  his  accus- 


1 88  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

tomed  way.  "Are  you  still  asleep,"  he  said, 
"  like  the  princess  in  the  old  fairy  tale  ?  Are 
you  waiting  for  your  prince  to  come  ?  " 

Agnes  echoed  the  laugh,  only  with  more 
coldness.  "I  never  think  of  him,"  she  said. 
"Besides,  I  would  as  lief  that  he  should  re- 
main away  ;  perhaps  I  would  a  little  rather." 

Maxwell  let  his  eyes  again  sweep  her  face  ; 
his  own  had  saddened  unusually.  "  That  is  a 
strange  confession,"  he  said ;  "  I  hope  you  do 
not  mean  it." 

"Yes,"  replied  Agnes,  with  a  quaint  earnest- 
ness, "indeed  I  do  mean  it!"  Some  caprice 
made  her  suddenly  change  the  subject.  "  Tell 
me,"  she  said,  with  an  abrupt  softness,  "  do 
you  think  that  Miss  Meta  Schuyler  has  any 
reason  for  her  languid  way  of  looking  at  life  "i 
Do  you  think  she  has  ever  had  any  great  dis- 
appointment }  " 

Maxwell  did  not  answer  for  several  seconds. 
"  I  think  that  she  is  very  much  in  love  with 
Oscar  Schuyler,"  he  said. 


A  HOPELESS  CASE.  189 

"And  Oscar  Schuyler?"  asked  Agnes. 
"  Would  you  say  that  he  returned  the  feel- 
ing?" 

Maxwell  shook  his  head.  "  I  don't  know," 
he  answered.  "  I  used  to  believe  so.  Schuy- 
ler is  a  curious  fellow.  He  delights  in  con- 
cealments ;  he  loves  to  mask  his  best  traits  ; 
and  he  has  a  great  many  good  ones,  —  yes,  a 
great  many." 

Agnes  laughed  aloud.  "  Why  do  you  laugh  } " 
said  Maxwell,  turning  quickly. 

Her  blue  eyes  were  glowing  with  a  sweet 
cordiality.  "A  happy  thought  struck  me/' 
she  replied.  "  I  laughed  from  pure  pleasure. 
Do  you  know  what  the  thought  was }  " 

"  How  should  I  know  }  " 

"  Well,  I  was  wondering  if  you  had  ever 
spoken  ill  of  any  one  in  all  your  life." 


IX. 


HATEVER  may  have  been  the  brief 
conversation  between  Agnes  and  Mr. 
Speed  at  the  church-door  in  Brooklyn, 
it  wholly  escaped  the  remembrance  of  the  for- 
mer until,  on  the  following  evening,  IMrs.  Le- 
roy  made  a  certain  proposition  to  her  cousin. 

"  Agnes,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  "  we  have  a 
rather  stupid  task  to  perform  this  evening. 
We  must  look  in  at  the  Misses  Van  Twil- 
ler's  reception.  The  Misses  Van  Twiller  are 
two  old-maid  cousins  of  mine,  with  enormous 
Knickerbocker  ideas.  They  give  occasional 
entertainments,  and  they  have  a  rigid  abhor- 
rence of  what  they  call  '  new  people.'  They 
live  down  in  Bond  Street,  in  an  old  house 
which  their  family  has   occupied  for  at  least 


A   HOPELESS   CASE. 


191 


fifty  years.  They  make  their  receptions  so 
stupid  and  tame  that  people  only  go  to  them 
as  a  matter  of  duty.  They  have  a  punch-bowl 
of  weak  punch,  and  coffee,  made  on  a  table 
loaded  with  old  family  silver,  passed  round  at 
eleven  o'clock  ;  this  is  the  extent  of  their  re- 
freshment. I  should  like  immensely  to  get 
rid  of  to-night's  affair,  and  we  shall  only  go  to 
it  for  family  reasons." 

"  I  shall  have  other  reasons  for  not  going 
to  it,"  said  Agnes. 

Mrs.  Leroy  raised  her  blond  eyebrows. 
"  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear .?"  she  asked. 

Agnes  took  out  her  watch  and  glanced  at 
it.  "  I  am  engaged,  this  evening,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  promised  to  go  to  a  concert." 

Mrs.  Leroy  looked  still  more  surprised.  "A 
concert .?"  she  repeated.     ''With  whom  V 

"Mr.  Speed,"  replied  Agnes.  "You  recol- 
lect Mr.  Speed,  of  course,"  she  added. 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy.  "Do  you 
mean  that  you  and  he  are  going  aIo?ie  to- 
gether?'^ 


192  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  marked  empha- 
sis placed  on  those  two  final  words.  It  was 
Agnes's  turn  to  look  surprised. 

"Alone  together?"  she  repeated.  "Why, 
yes,  cousin  Augusta.     Why  not } " 

Mrs.  Leroy  shook  her  head  with  oracular 
negation.  "  It  will  never  do,"  she  said,  slowly. 
"Never  in  the  world." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  murmured  Agnes. 

"  But,  my  dear,  I  understand  only  too  well," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  You  cannot  go  alone 
with  Mr.  Speed  —  or  any  one  else  of  his  sex 
—  to  a  place  of  public  amusement." 

Agnes  shrugged  her  shoulders  bewilderedly. 
*'  For  what  reason  }  " 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  great 
decision,  "  this  sort  of  thing  is  not  done ;  that 
is  all." 

"  Not  done  1 "  repeated  Agnes,  still  more 
astonished. 

"  No,"  persisted  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  I  could  not 
possibly  hear  of  your  going  to  any  concert  or 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  1 93 

theatre  in  Mr.  Speed's  company,  without  a 
matron.  You  might  do  it  if  you  were  engaged 
to  each  other  ;  but  as  matters  now  stand  it 
would  be  positively  not  respectable." 

"  I  have  known  very  respectable  people  to 
do  it,"  declared  Agnes. 

Mrs.  Leroy  lifted  her  brows  and  drooped 
her  eyelids.  "Not  people  who  are  in  society," 
she  said.  "  I  don't  doubt  that  it  is  common 
enough  among  .  .  .  others."  The  last  word 
was  pronounced  in  a  lowered  tone,  as  though 
its  plebeian  suggestiveness  were  painfully 
clear. 

"  Oh,  very  common,"  said  Agnes.  "  You 
have  been  so  much  'in  society'  all  your  life, 
cousin  Augusta,  that  you  can't  think  how  scan- 
dalously people  who  are  out  of  it  sometimes 
behave." 

Mrs.  Leroy's  eyes  hardened.     "We  cannot 
settle    this  question  w^ith    sarcasm,  Agnes  — 
which,  by  the  way,  you   are  a  little  too  fonc' 
of  using,  I  have  found." 
13 


194  ^   HOPELESS   CASE. 

''There  are  some  questions,"  returned  Ag- 
nes, with  the  best-natured  of  looks,  "that  it 
seems  pathetic  to  argue.  They  are  too  trivial, 
cousin  Augusta.  They  will  not  stand  even 
the  wear  and  tear  of  being  quarreled  over." 

"  I  hope  there  is  to  be  no  quarrel,"  said  Mrs. 
Leroy,  crossing  her  hands  in  her  lap. 

*'No,  indeed,"  returned  Agnes.  "My  course 
shall  be  one  of  unmurmuring  concession. 
When  Mr.  Speed  comes  —  as  he  probably  will 
come  in  about  ten  minutes  —  I  shall  tell  him 
what  a  narrow  escape  we  have  both  had — how 
near  he  has  come  to  ruining  me  in  the  eyes  of 
society." 

Mrs.  Leroy  rose,  with  an  impatient  toss  of 
the  head.  "  You  are  incorrigible,"  she  ex- 
claimed.    "What  is  more,  you  are  unjust." 

"  Unjust  t " 

"  Yes.  You  have  actually  striven  to  make 
me  seem  in  the  wrong,  when  I  am  clearly 
right  —  when  I  have  simply  saved  you  from 
a  gross  impropriety." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  195 

"Ah,"  said  Agnes,  "there  is  nothing  Hke 
the  knowledge  of  possessing  a  good  cause. 
That  confers  its  own  reward.  Besides,  it  is 
so  fortifying ! " 

Agnes  spoke  with  the  smoothest  amiabihty 
of  tone.  It  was  her  words  and  not  their  mode 
of  utterance  that  carried  a  sting.  Mrs,  Leroy 
left  the  room,  presently,  with  a  sense  that  al- 
though she  had  conquered  in  her  little  contest 
the  victory  was  somehow  spoiled  for  her.  She 
began  to  feel  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
conquering  Agnes ;  the  girl  wore  a  sort  of  con- 
cealed chain-armor  that  blunted  every  blow. 

Mr.  Speed  came  punctually,  that  evening,  at 
the  appointed  hour.  Agnes  received  him  with- 
out her  bonnet. 

"I  have  just  discovered  that  I  can't  go  to 
the  concert  with  you,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Speed's  countenance  fell.  "  But  you 
agreed  to  go,"  he  replied,  with  an  almost 
brusque  reproachfulness. 

"  I    did    not   know  that    Mrs.   Leroy  would 


196  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

veto  our  plan.  It  is  considered  highly  im- 
proper for  two  unmarried  people,  of  differing 
sexes,  to  attend  any  place  of  amusement  with- 
out a  married  lady  as  their  matron." 

A  puzzled  frown  darkened  Mr.  Speed's  face; 
his  keen,  black  eyes  scanned  the  floor  a  mo- 
ment, then  they  scanned  Agnes. 

"  I  don't  understand  whether  you  are  in 
earnest  or  not,"  he  said.  **  But  I  half  believe 
you  are  joking." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Agnes.  "This  is  one 
of  the  rules  of  fashionable  New  York  society 
—  to  put  the  matter  as  roundly  as  possible, 
Mr.  Speed.  You  and  I  never  heard  of  it  be- 
fore, of  course ;  we  have  lived  so  long  outside 
of  the  sacred  limits." 

"  I  think  it  a  most  preposterous  rule,"  said 
Mr.  Speed,  after  looking  thoughtful  for  a  mo- 
ment. He  always  expressed  his  opinions  in 
this  downright,  unequivocal  way.  He  had  as 
little  satire  as  he  had  humor;  it  was  always 
plain  yes  or  no  with  hnn.  "  Don't  you  agree 
with  me  .-^ "  he  added,  in  swift  interrogation. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 97 

"  I  'm  afraid  that  I  do,"  laughed  Agnes. 
"But  it  is  too  bad  that  you  should  be  de- 
prived of  the  concert,"  she  went  on,  "  after 
your  long  journey.  You  take  so  little  amuse- 
ment ;  you  had  much  better  go  alone." 

Like  all  men  of  his  temperament,  Mr.  Speed 
was  suspicious,  and  sometimes  morbidly  so. 
For  days  past  he  had  been  more  unhappy  than 
Agnes  knew,  and  his  discomfort  had  sprung 
from  a  recent  sense  of  loneliness  that  had  laid 
no  gentle  touch  upon  his  life.  He  had  looked 
forward  to  this  evening  with  a  keenly  ardent 
expectancy.  It  would  be  inexpressibly  pleas- 
ant to  separate  Agnes  once  again  from  the 
uncongenial  surroundings  in  which  he  had  of 
late  discovered  her.  He  felt  that  for  a  brief 
time  at  least  he  was  to  get  back  the  Agnes  of 
old.  Her  sudden  announcement  irritated  and 
distressed  him.  He  put  one  of  his  big,  gloved 
hands  to  his  massive  forehead,  bending  his 
head  with  a  sort  of  melancholy  fatigue. 

"I  shall  not  go   alone,"  he  said.     "I  shall 


1 98  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

not  go  at  all  —  unless  you  will  consent  to  join 
me." 

"That  is  impossible,"  said  Agnes,  almost 
pityingly.  She  felt  sincere  regret  at  the  dis- 
appointment she  had  been  forced  to  inflict. 
She  knew  that  this  man  liked  her  —  though 
how  greatly  she  had  never  permitted  herself 
to  realize.  She  knew  the  dogged  drudgery  of 
his  brain-labor,  and  his  deep  need  of  just  such 
relaxation  as  would  be  given  him  by  an  even- 
ing spent  in  listening  to  delightful  music,  and 
in  imparting  his  impressions  to  a  sympathetic 
friend.  For  a  moment  Agnes  half  made  up 
her  mind  to  go  and  request  Mrs.  Leroy  that 
she  should  accompany  Mr.  Speed  and  herself 
to  the  concert.  But  her  resolve  would  not 
bear  afterthought ;  such  an  arrangement  must 
only  serve  as  the  most  disastrous  makeshift. 

While  this  idea  passed  rapidly  through  Ag- 
nes's  mind,  a  gloom  had  been  gathering  on 
her  guest's  lowered  face.  He  now  raised  his 
head  and  looked  at  her  quite  bitterly. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  1 99 

"  How  is  it  impossible  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  disregard  Mrs.  Leroy's 
wishes  while  I  remain  here  in  her  house.  You 
must  perceive  this,  Mr.  Speed." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  perceive  it  perfectly ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  harsh,  transient  smile,  that  left 
his  features  drawn  and  gloomy. 

"  What  do  you  mean  } "  murmured  Agnes. 

Mr.  Speed  laughed;  the  laugh  had  some- 
thing saturnine  about  it.  "  Of  course  your 
new  life  tells  on  you  already.  Its  glitter  and 
show  pleases  you ;  the  men  and  women,  with 
their  graceful  insipidities,  have  won  you  over. 
I  knew  it  would  be  that  way.  You  are  no 
longer  disappointed ;  you  begin  to  feel  at 
home  here.  You  bow  your  head  under  the 
yoke  —  a  pretty,  silver  yoke,  almost  without 
weight.  Very  soon  your  conversion  will  be 
complete." 

Agnes  had  colored  noticeably  before  this 
unsuspected  outburst  was  ended.  She  forgot 
her  pity  for  Mr.  Speed  ;  she  now  felt  decidedlv 


200  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

angry  at  him ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  his  injus- 
tice had  quite  passed  the  limits  of  endurance. 

"Really,"  she  exclaimed,  "for  one  who 
prides  himself  on  being  an  exact  thinker,  you 
leap  to  conclusions  in  a  most  surprising  way. 
But  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Speed,  that  I  ought 
even  to  criticise  your  singular  statements ; 
they  are  sufficiently  unwarranted  to  be  met 
with  silence." 

"  Yes  —  contemptuous  silence  ! "  broke  forth 
Mr.  Speed.  He  laughed  again  ;  then  his  eyes 
swept  Agnes's  face  with  a  kind  of  sullen  ex- 
citement. "  Oh,"  he  went  on,  waving  both 
hands  for  an  instant  before  him,  in  the  most 
uncharacteristic  fashion,  "  I  don't  doubt  that  I 
am  seeing  my  last  of  you.  What  woman  ever 
resisted  admiration  when  it  was  backed  by 
wealth  and  all  these  superficial  refinements  } 
You  are  not  going  to  be  an  exception,  —  why 
should  you  be  }  This  evening  you  have  put 
me  off  with  a  neat  little  formulated  objection  ; 
next  week,  if  I  came  here,  you  would  meet  me 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  201 

with  aristocratic  coolness.  I  was  well  enough 
in  Brooklyn  —  that  stupid  Brooklyn,  where 
there  were  no  elegant  Mr.  Gascoignes,  Mr. 
Schuylers,  Mrs.  Leroys.  Then  if  I  came  again, 
you  would  be  engaged;  you  would  laugh  at 
the  idea  of  treating  me  cWiWy  nozv  —  a  poor 
tutor,  a  scribbler  for  the  newspapers,  a  fellow 
that  is  actually  writing  a  book  !  Oh,  I  see  the 
drift  of  things  very  clearly.  I  had  better  save 
you  the  trouble  of  dismissing  me  in  good 
earnest ! " 

"  You  are  right !  "  said  Agnes,  starting  to 
her  feet.  There  were  two  scarlet  spots  in  her 
cheeks  as  she  spoke.  "  I  think  the  difficulty 
might  as  well  be  ended  that  way  at  once." 

Agnes  was  very  angry.  Without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  she  walked  quickly  toward  the 
door  and  disappeared  from  the  room.  Reach- 
ing the  hall,  she  began  to  ascend  the  stairs  ; 
her  heart  was  beating  with  indignation  ;  she 
felt  herself  to  have  been  insulted,  and  cause- 
lessly. 


202  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

She  had  almost  mounted  the  stairway  when 
she  heard  Mr.  Speed's  step  sound  in  the  mar- 
bled hall.  She  half  turned,  looking  down- 
ward. The  light  struck  Mr.  Speed's  face  in  a 
peculiar  way,  revealing  every  lineament.  Ag- 
nes saw,  in  one  brief  glance,  that  her  guest 
looked  unnaturally  haggard  ;  perhaps  she  saw 
something  else  in  his  face  —  a  desperate  suf- 
fering that  resembled  absolute  agony. 

A  new  pang  of  compassion  pierced  her 
heart ;  her  anger  vanished  on  the  instant.  She 
turned  fully  ;  the  man's  name  was  on  her  lips  ; 
she  meant  to  call  him  back.  She  herself  was 
almost  completely  in  shadow^,  so  that  he  could 
only  have  discerned  her  figure,  and  no  more. 
Just  then  she  saw  him  walk  with  haste  toward 
the  door,  open  it,  and  disappear. 

Agnes  went  slowly  up-stairs  to  her  own 
room.  The  tears  had  filled  her  eyes.  With 
sharp  intensity  of  recollection,  she  had  re- 
called the  dreary  actuality  of  this  man's  life. 
She  remembered  his  numberless  good  traits, 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  203 

his  intellect,  his  ambition,  his  decisive  faults, 
which  sprang  from  the  morbid  conditions  of  a 
reflective,  valetudinarian  nature,  experiencing 
no  cheerful  visitations  by  reason  of  its  close- 
applied  vigilance  in  the  pursuit  of  scientific 
truth  ;  she  remembered  all  this,  and  more, 
blaming  herself  for  not  having  sooner  felt  its 
extenuating  weight. 

The  whole  matter  haunted  Agnes  during 
the  next  day.  Just  at  evening  of  this  day  she 
received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Speed,  full  of  elo- 
quent apology.  Her  tears  started  again  as 
she  read  it. 

She  answered  the  letter  at  once,  taking 
some  time  to  write  it.  "  He  will  come  again, 
I  am  sure,"  she  told  herself,  after  her  response 
was  sealed,  "  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  him 
come." 

But  it  was  many  days  before  Mr.  Speed 
came  again. 


X. 

HREE  weeks  glided  away.  The  nov- 
elty had  somewhat  worn  off  from 
Agnes's  changed  life.  Not  that  she 
had  grown  accustomed  to  the  whirl  of  merry- 
making that  surrounded  her,  but  that  its  be- 
wildering effects  had  now  wholly  ceased,  and 
left  her  the  coolest  and  most  self-poised  of 
observers.  Mrs.  Leroy  often  watched  her  in 
puzzled  silence.  It  could  not  be  denied  that 
her  cousin  had  "  taken "  with  a  number  of 
people.  She  was  sought  after  and  even 
courted  ;  she  had  been  very  far  from  a  failure. 
And  yet,  in  spite  of  her  youth,  all  this  atten- 
tion seemed  to  fall  upon  her  with  a  strangely 
dispassionate  result.  Far  from  turning  her 
head,  civility  and  favoritism  had   only  set  it 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  205 

more  firmly  upon  her  shoulders.  At  times 
there  was  something  in  the  manner  of  Agnes 
that  roused  Mrs.  Leroy's  covert  ire  ;  the  girl's 
indifference  seemed  to  verge  upon  ironical 
amusement ;  she  was  still  as  much  withdrawn 
as  ever  from^  the  world  she  had  entered  ;  it 
was  this  suggestion  of  remoteness  that  now 
and  then  sharply  tantalized  her  kinswoman. 
"  I  half  believe  that  she  actually  despises  the 
whole  thing,"  had  more  than  once  swept 
through  Mrs.  Leroy's  thoughts.  But  the 
solidness  of  her  own  self-esteem  had  pre- 
vented Agnes's  cousin  from  brooding  long 
upon  so  clear  an  improbability. 

Meanwhile  Agnes  found  her  time  quite  im- 
peratively occupied.  She  had  gone  to  many 
entertainments,  of  various  sorts,  with  Mrs. 
Leroy.  Schuyler  had  driven  her  out  twice  in 
his  remarkably  elegant  dog-cart,  famed,  amid 
a  small  admiring  constituency,  for  the  quiet 
taste  of  its  appointments  and  the  blooded 
quality  of  the  horses  that  drew  it.     Livingston 


206  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

-» 

JMaxwell  had  also  driven  her  out,  on  several 
occasions,  and  his  marked  preference  for  her 
society  had  given  rise  to  frequent  comments. 
Occasionally,  during  the  brief  intervals  of  soli- 
tude that  Agnes  secured  between  her  close- 
crowding  engagements,  she  would  re-peruse 
the  letters  which  she  had  received  from  the 
Cliffe  family  in  their  Western  home.  Her 
own  answers  were  often  dashed  off  with  a 
perilous  rapidity.  "  If  I  have  been  incoher- 
ent and  unsatisfactory,"  she  would  sometimes 
write  in  remorseful  postscript,  ''  recollect  the 
absurdly  flurried  life  that  I  am  living,  and 
pardon  me."  Now  and  then  she  would  stand 
and  gaze  at  the  unread  books  which  she  had 
brought  with  her  to  Lafayette  Place.  "What 
would  Uncle  Robert  say,"  she  repeatedly  asked 
herself,  "  if  he  knew  that  I  have  not  looked 
into  any  of  the  volumes  which  were  his  part- 
ing gift } "  Her  uncle  had  always  taken  de- 
light in  directing  Agnes's  reading  ;  he  was  a 
man  familiar  with  the  best  books,  and  full  of 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  20/ 

emphatic  theories  regarding  those  that  should 
be  cultivated  by  youthful  minds.  Poor  Mari- 
anna  had  not  proved  a  very  apt  recipient  of 
his  tutelage,  and  Agnes  had  been  made  to 
profit  by  his  daughter's  deficiencies.  The 
past  would  rise  appealingly  to  Agnes  as  she 
looked  on  these  unopened  volumes  ;  she  would 
remember  the  refined  quiet  of  her  Brook- 
lyn home,  the  congeniality  with  progressive 
thought,  in  all  its  varied  details,  shown 
through  happy  domestic  evenings  about  the 
low  sitting-room  light,  when  Mr.  Speed  would 
drop  in,  when  he  and  her  uncle  would  argue, 
discuss,  investigate,  when  Mrs.  Cliffe  would 
gently  break  into  the  conversation  with  her 
shrewd,  wise  objections,  when  Marianna's 
ready  laughter  would  bubble  up  at  the  least 
provocation,  and  when  Agnes  herself  would 
contradict,  disclaim,  or  capitulate,  in  a  spirit  of 
good-humored  yet  forensic  debate.  At  these 
moments  everything  had  been  sincere,  natural, 
spontaneous.      How   different   from    the   arti- 


208  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

ficial,  hectic  atmosphere  of  her  present  hfe  ! 
Throughout  the  past  fortnight  she  had  seen 
walls  lined  with  gems  of  rare  painting,  and 
apartments  thronged  with  lavish  beauties  of 
decoration.  But  the  homely  comfort  of  that 
modest  sitting-room,  its  rows  of  choice  books, 
its  well-selected  engravings,  its  tastefully 
simple  furniture,  and  its  distinct  air  of  intel- 
lectual repose,  set  against  all  recent  memories 
a  more  than  rivaling  charm.  The  tears  al- 
ways started  whenever  Agnes  read  those  let- 
ters from  the  West.  Not  seldom  she  would 
find  them  awaiting  her  after  a  return  from 
some  fashionable  gathering,  and  then  the  in- 
tensity of  contrast  would  take  fresher  force. 
Then,  too,  the  mutinous  knot  would  rise  larger 
in  her  throat,  and  the  yearning  of  homesick- 
ness pierce  her  with  greater  keenness. 

"  It  is  an  unfamiliar  life  to  me ;  I  have 
nothing  in  my  experience  that  corresponds 
with  it,"  said  Meta  Schuyler,  one  day,  when 
Agnes  had  sketched  some  of  the  chief  details 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  209 

in  her  tranquil  past.  Meta  now  sought  the 
society  of  Agnes  almost  constantly;  it  seemed 
to  affect  her  with  some  potent  fascination. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  it  was  a  very  tame 
life,"  said  Agnes. 

"Tame.?  Oh,  I  am  no  judge  of  what  is 
tame,"  Meta  responded.  "  I  have  lost  my 
power  of  judging  enjoyable  things  ;  the  gayer 
my  surroundings  are,  the  duller  they  seem. 
But  my  early  childhood  was  an  immensely 
different  affair  from  yours.  Like  you,  I  was 
brought  up  by  an  aunt  and  an  uncle.  But  my 
aunt  was  too  assailed  by  fashionable  engage- 
ments to  remember  me  very  often,  at  first.  I 
had  a  French  nurse,  whose  name  was  Ang^- 
lique,  and  whose  temper  was  demoniacal.  She 
controlled  my  youthful  destiny ;  I  now  and 
then  saw  my  guardians  at  dessert ;  my  uncle 
was  nearly  always  at  the  club,  but  once  in  a 
while  he  would  come  into  the  nursery  and  give 
me  a  kiss.  One  day,  in  my  tenth  year,  I  fell 
sick  ;  my  aunt  was  filled  with  remorse  at  her 
14 


2IO  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

neglect,  and  nursed  me  through  a  dangerous 
fever.  After  that  she  and  T  were  inseparable. 
Before  I  was  fifteen  I  knew  all  her  friends. 
I  have  had  no  regular  coming  out  into  soci- 
ety ;  I  plucked  the  fruit  very  early,  or  rather 
it  dropped  into  my  lap.  When  I  had  got  to 
be  nineteen  I  had  the  experience  and  the  dis- 
illusion of  twenty-five." 

"  I  am  sure  that  you  have  had  many  ad- 
mirers," said  Agnes,  after  a  silence.  "And 
yet  you  have  not  married." 

"  That  is  very  pretty  of  you.  You  mean 
that  it  is  not  my  own  fault  if  I  have  not 
married." 

''  Well,  yes." 

Meta  lowered  her  eyes.  "  It  was  both  our 
faults,"  she  said,  with  infinite  sadness,  and 
very  faintly. 

"  I  think  that  I  understand  you,"  said  Ag- 
nes,in  soft  exclamation. 

Meta  looked  up,  with  the  brisk  gesture  of 
a  bird  suddenly  raising  its  head.     ''  You  are 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  211 

wonderfully  clever,"  she  said  ;  "  but  take  care 
that  you  make  no  mistake." 

"Oh,  I  observe,"  said  Agnes,  with  an  an- 
swering smile  ;  "  I  put  two  and  two  together." 

Meta  now  posed  her  head  a  little  on 
one  side.  "And  what  conclusions  have  you 
drawn  .?  "  she  asked. 

Agnes  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  That 
neither's  fault  is  irreparable,"  she  said,  with 
great  sweetness  in  her  voice. 

Meta  looked  at  her,  with  a  mournful  calm 
filling  her  brown  eyes.  "  If  you  tried  to  re- 
pair the  past,"  she  murmured,  "  it  would  be 
useless  ;  it  would  be  too  late." 

Agnes  was  seated  quite  near  to  the  speaker, 
but  she  now  leaned  nearer  still.  She  laid 
her  palm  against  the  back  of  Meta's  hand,  and 
let  her  fingers  gently  clasp  what  they  had 
touched.     "  Do  you  want  me  to  try  }  "  she  said. 

Meta's  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  a  wistful 
lustre.  "  Oh,  no,  no,"  she  faltered ;  "  how 
could  you  possibly  succeed  }  " 


212  A  HOPELESS  CASE. 

Agnes  still  clasped  Meta's  hand.  "  Let 
me  tell  you,"  she  said.  She  went  on  speak- 
ing, with  quickened  voice.  "  I  might  say  to 
both  of  you  that  each  needs  the  other,  at 
his  best,  at  her  best.  I  might  say  to  both 
that  both  are  hungry  for  a  more  satisfying 
life,  full  of  healthier  humanity,  wiser  pursuit, 
more  vital  occupation.     I  might  say"  .  .  . 

Meta  suddenly  caught  Agnes's  hand  in 
both  her  own.  She  held  it  so  for  an  instant, 
looking  fixedly  at  her  companion.  Then  she 
let  the  hand  fall,  and  turned  slightly  away. 
The  abruptness  of  this  act  had  made  Agnes 
pause.  "  It  would  all  be  useless  trouble 
now,"  she  said,  in  rapid,  excited  tones.  "Ag- 
nes, shall  I  tell  you  why  1 "  Meta  rose ;  the 
color  had  grown  vivid  in  either  cheek,  light- 
ing her  face  with  a  brilliant  beauty. 

"  You  puzzle  me,"  said  Agnes,  who  still 
remained  seated. 

''  Oh,  have  you  not  seen  } "  exclaimed 
Meta,  clasping  her  hands  together  and  stoop- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  213 

ing  toward  Agnes.  "You  are  so  apart  from 
all  this  new  existence  of  yours,  that  I  some- 
times think  you  willfully  remain  so.  Then 
again  I  know  that  I  wTong  you  —  that  it  is 
no  calculated  withdrawal  —  that  you  are  sim- 
ply your  own  dear  self,  always,  and  so  cast 
in  another  mold  from  ours  that  while  your 
sincerity  charms  us,  your  stronger,  differing 
nature  compels  you  toward  this  unconscious 
reserve.  .  .  .  But,  Agnes,  though  you  have 
not  seen  it,  Oscar  Schuyler  has  changed 
since  you  and  he  met.  He  does  not  think 
of  me  any  longer  —  and  for  one  powerful 
reason.  .  .  .  Oh,  Agnes,  he  is  in  love  with 
yo2c  I " 

Agnes  rose.  She  had  growm  pale.  "  No, 
no,"  she  said,  "  you  are  wrong  ! " 

Meta  shook  her  head.  *'  I  believe  it,"  she 
declared.  "I  believe  it  as  firmly  as  I  do  not 
believe  that  you  care  for  him." 

It  happened  that  very  soon  afterward  Mrs. 
Leroy  entered  the  room   and  put  an  end  to 


214  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

this  conversation.  About  ten  minutes  later 
Schuyler's  card  was  sent  up  to  Agnes.  The 
hour  was  then  a  little  after  two  o'clock. 

Agnes  handed  the  card  to  Meta.  "Will 
you  not  come  down  with  me.-*"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  watching  both  girls  keen- 
ly, beneath  a  demeanor  of  apparent  uncon- 
cern. "  No,  thanks,"  said  Meta ;  "  I  must 
go,  presently." 

Agnes  went  down-stairs  alone.  "  I  have 
come  to  propose  an  idea  to  you,"  said  Schuy- 
ler, shortly  after  he  had  shaken  hands  with 
her.  "  To-day  is  wonderfully  mild  for  the 
season.  You  scarcely  know  Central  Park ; 
you  told  me  that  you  wanted  to  explore  it. 
I  should  like  you  to  go  up  there  and  stroll 
about  with  me  for  a  little  while." 

"  Is  it  the  proper  thing  to  do } "  inquired 
Agnes,  after  a  pause. 

*'  Do  you  think  that  I  would  ask  you  to 
offend  propriety } " 

"  I    hope    not.     But   I   have   not    yet    quite 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  21$ 

mastered  the  subtleties  of  Mrs.  Grundy's  pro- 
hibitions. She  would  not  permit  us  to  go  to 
the  theatre  without  a  matron." 

''  I  know.  But  she  will  allow  us  to  take 
a  walk  in  Central  Park  without  one." 

"  Are  you  sure  }  " 

"  I  am  sure.  I  know  her  code  by  heart. 
I  ought,  by  this  time." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Agnes,  after  another 
pause,  "  I  will   speak  with  my  cousin." 

She  left  the  room,  remained  absent  perhaps 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  returned  wearing 
her  bonnet.  "Cousin  Augusta  gives  her  per- 
mission," she  said.  "  But  we  are  to  take  a 
street-car.  A  close  carriage  would  be  highly 
objectionable.  But  I  suppose  you  know  this, 
knowing  'the  code'  so  well." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Schuyler,  with  a  grim 
smile.  "  I  thought  of  asking  you  to  let  me 
drive  you  up  in  my  trap ;  but  one  of  my 
horses  has  gone  lame  ;  they  generally  select 
a    beautiful    day    for    any    such    proceeding. 


2l6  A    HOPELESS  CASE. 

However,  if  we  got  out  we  should  be  bored 
by  having  the  wagon  wait  for  us  in  one 
particular  spot.  As  it  is,  we  can  ramble 
about  wherever  we  please  ;  we  can  make 
thorough  gypsies  of  ourselves." 

During  the  ride  to  the  Park,  Agnes  spoke 
little;  she  was  thinking  of  what  had  passed 
during  her  recent  talk  with  Meta.  She  felt 
a  great  longing  to  help  her  new  friend,  and 
she  silently  denied  the  truth  of  Meta's  pro- 
fessed conviction. 

"  Here  we  are  at  last,"  said  Schuyler,  as 
they  alighted  from  the  car.  "  What  a  lovely 
day  for  December  !  " 

The  day  was  indeed  exceptional.  There 
was  no  breeze  whatever  ;  the  sky  hung  thickly 
shrouded  in  pearly  vapor,  where  the  sun  made 
a  round  of  dull  splendor  as  it  sloped  west- 
ward. The  leafless  lengths  of  shrubbery  took 
from  the  bland  atmosphere  a  mellowing 
charm  ;  the  wintry  hardness  of  their  outhnes 
had  so  softened   that   you  almost   looked  for 


A  HOPELESS  CASE.  21/ 

some  vernal  evidence  of  bud  or  sprig  where 
they  flanked  with  woody  tangles  the  firm,  in- 
elastic pathways.  Here  and  there,  upon  the 
close,  faded  verdure  of  the  lawns,  lay  delicate 
remnants  of  a  recent  light  snowfall,  whose 
final  traces  had  almost  wholly  vanished,  but 
whose  pale  residue  gave  threat  of  future  rig- 
ors, and  touched  the  misty  tenderness  of  the 
scene  with  the  pathos  of  perishability.  But 
seeing  the  denuded  vines  cling  to  the  sculpt- 
ured balustrades  of  bridges,  the  groves  of 
changeless  firs  lift  their  sombre  ovals  in  the 
dreamy  light,  the  rough-wrought  cedarn  arbors 
still  hide  inviting  dusk  below  their  rustic  roof- 
age, and  the  groups  of  dismantled  trees  melt- 
ing their  brown  stems  together  in  the  far-off 
tranquil  haze,  you  felt  as  if  the  ghost  of  sum- 
mer were  walking  one  of  her  blighted  king- 
doms, and  bringing  back  a  phantasmal  sem- 
blance of  her  departed  reign. 

'*  How  charming  all  this  must  have  been,  a 
few  weeks  ago  ! "  said  Agnes,  while  she  and 
Schuyler  moved  slowly  along. 


2l8  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Yes.  It  's  unpleasantly  popular,  though. 
You  've  no  idea  what  throngs  of  horrid  people 
come  here." 

"  Oh,  I  can  easily  imagine  that  the  Park  is 
a  great  blessing  to  the  poorer  classes." 

"  How  delightfully  democratic  you  are  !  " 

**  I  am  human  —  I  hope." 

There  was  a  silence.  "  I  sometimes  think 
you  are  colder  than  you  want  to  seem,"  said 
Schuyler,  in  a  voice  of  such  unusual  meaning 
that  Agnes  almost  started  as  she  heard  it. 

She  answered  him  in  a  rapid  undertone. 
*'  Perhaps  you  are  right.  But  I  certainly  do 
not  wish  to  seem  cold  now.  .  .  .  And  yet  I 
fear  that  I  may,  for  embarrassment  always 
draws  me  closer  within  myself,  somehow." 

"  Embarrassment  1 "  said  Schuyler,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Yes." 

They  had  reached  one  of  the  stone  bridges 
whose  fluted  edge  overlooked  a  lower  roadway 
that  wound  beneath  its  underlying  arch.    They 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  219 

were  walking  very  slowly.  Agnes  paused  and 
leaned  against  the  solid,  carven  verge.  Be- 
yond, between  the  stripped  tree-boughs,  they 
could  see  distant  church-spires  piercing  the 
still,  thick  air.  On  the  road  beneath  them  a 
pale,  sickly  man  was  strolling  with  feeble 
steps,  while  a  little  bright-haired  child  tripped 
and  prattled  at  his  side. 

Agnes  turned  a  grave  look  upon  her  com- 
panion's inquiring  face.  "  Yes,"  she  went  on, 
"embarrassment  This  world  of  ours  is  full 
of  unhappy  people  whom  we  cannot  help,  yet 
I  know  two  whom  perhaps  I  could  help,  and  I 
long  to  do  it.  But  my  wish  may  be  misinter- 
preted—  by  one,  at  least.  It  may  be  called 
senseless  interference.  .  .  .  And  that  would 
pain  and  distress  me  beyond  measure." 

Agnes  had  dropped  her  eyes  before  ending 
her  last  sentence.  Amid  the  slight  ensuing 
silence  she  heard  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs 
on  the  broad  road  near  by,  where  countless 
carriages  were  rolling.     These  sounds  smote 


220  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

upon  the  placid  afternoon  with  an  odd,  hol- 
low sharpness.  It  seemed  to  Agnes  a  long 
time  before  Schuyler  responded. 

"  Still,"  he  presently  said,  ''  you  have  made 
up  your  mind  to  speak  } " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Agnes,  very  quickly,  look- 
ing round  again.  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  tell  hiui  that  he  can  win  the  sweetest  and 
most  charming  of  wives  if  he  only  chooses." 

"  How  ? "  asked  Schuyler,  who  had  turned 
pale. 

"  By  going  to  her  and  saying  :  *  Meta,  we 
disbelieve  in  everything  because  we  will  not 
let  ourselves  believe  in  each  other.  We  live 
idly  and  aimlessly  because  we  will  not  seek 
the  energy  and  purpose  that  would  spring  from 
mutual  succor.  We  have  both  masked  our 
disappointment  beneath  an  indolent  worldli- 
ness,  and  we  parade  this  before  one  another's 
gaze  with  a  sort  of  despairing  bravado.  We 
are  both  secretly  unhappy,  yet  we  strive  for 
the  foolish  triumph  of  casting  dust  into  each 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  221 

Other's  eyes.  Let  us  admit  that  the  deception 
has  been  equally  successful  on  either  side  — 
and  end  it.  Let  us  both  make  the  past  a  step- 
ping-stone, and  find  our  higher  selves  by  meet- 
ing on  a  loftier  level.  Let  there  be  no  recrim- 
ination, no  reproach.  I  deserve  your  pardon 
as  much  as  you  deserve  mine.  The  present 
need  not  speak  this  in  words  ;  the  future  will 
speak  it  more  eloquently  by  acts.'  ...  If  you 
should  go  to  Meta  Schuyler,  and  proffer  rec- 
onciliation on  these  terms,  I  think  you  would 
be  doing  very  wisely." 

Schuyler  was  looking  downward,  now ;  she 
was  watching  his  face  intently;  she  had  so 
watched  it  since  she  first  began  to  speak ;  she 
was  sure,  some  little  time  before  the  end,  that 
she  had  not  offended  him. 

He  lifted  his  eyes  and  met  her  own.  He 
put  out  his  hand,  and  Agnes  let  hers  rest  in  it 
for  a  moment.  His  dark  face  was  full  of 
troubled  sternness  ;  but  she  had  never  heard 
him  use  so  kindly  a  voice. 


222  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said.  "  I  feel  honored  by 
your  counsel."  There  was  no  trace  of  his  old 
sarcasm  left. 

"  And  you  will  avail  yourself  of  it  ?  "  ques- 
tioned Agnes. 

He  put  both  arms  on  the  massive  balus- 
trade and  stared  straight  down  at  the  earthy 
bend  of  road. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said.  ...  "I  don't 
know." 

Agnes  touched  his  arm  for  an  instant, 
promptly  withdrawing  her  hand.  "  Tell  me," 
she  said,  her  voice  growing  persuasively  mu- 
sical ;  "  are  you  not  in  love  with  Meta  Schuy- 
ler }  " 

He  turned  a  sudden  look  upon  her  face,  in- 
stantlv  avertins:  his  eves  as^ain.  "  What  a 
waste  of  thunder  for  you  if  I  were  not !  "  he 
exclaimed,  in  his  old,  ironical  voice. 

''  Ah,"  broke  forth  Agnes,  in  angry  reproach, 
"you  have  been  jesting  with  me  !  " 

"  No,  no,"  he  said,  growing  instantly  serious 


A   I/OPE  LESS  CASE.  223 

again.  "  But  I  could  not  help  feeling  slightly 
amused  by  the  magnificent  way  in  which  you 
take  things  for  granted." 

Agnes  bit  her  lip.  She  had  set  herself  upon 
winning  a  victory,  and  now  she  seemed  to  see 
the  laurel  slipping  from  her  reach.  "  I  wanted 
you  to  be  anything  but  amused,"  she  said, 
with  great  seriousness.  "  I  wanted  you  to  be 
impressed — aroused  —  stimulated.  But  you 
have  not  answered  my  question  ;  do  you  not 
mean  to  answer  it } " 

"  You  have  already  assumed  my  answer. 
You  have  already  disposed  of  me,  so  to 
speak." 

"  Have  I  been  wrong  .?  " 

Schuyler's  dark,  composed  eyes  w^ere  riveted 
on  her  face  at  this  moment.  "You  might  not 
have  been  wrong  two  weeks  ago,"  he  said. 

Agnes  started.    "  I  do  not  understand  you." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked  all 
about  him  in  a  rapid,  disturbed  way.  "  I  hardly 
understand  myself,"  he  exclaimed,  meeting  her 
perplexed  look  again. 


224  ^   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  But  I  am  so  anxious  that  you  should 
understand  yourself,"  pleaded  Agnes,  softly. 
"  You  do  love  Meta  Schuyler,"  she  went  on, 
speaking  the  words  quite  tremulously. 

"  Meta  Schuyler  is  not  the  only  woman  in 
the  world,"  he  said,  with  swift,  peculiar  force. 

"  She  is  the  only  woman  in  the  world  for 
you,"  said  Agnes,  with  a  plaintive  emphasis. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  one  other,"  said  Schuyler, 
leaning  nearer  to  his  companion,  and  employ- 
ing the  same  tone  as  before. 

She  drew  a  little  away  from  him ;  he  had 
never  seen  her  look  so  sorrowful  as  now. 

"  /  do  not  know  of  any  other,"  she  said. 

"Ah,  how  right  I  was  when  I  called  you 
cold ! " 

"It  is  growing  late,"  said  Agnes,  drawing 
slowly  from  the  balustrade.  ...  "  It  is  time 
for  us  to  go."  She  still  looked  very  sad  ;  a 
deepened  color  lit  her  cheeks,  and  her  lip  was 
trembling. 

Schuyler   turned   and  followed  her  as  she 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  22$ 

moved  along.     "Are  you  sure  that  you  are  so 
cold,  after  all  ?  "  he  questioned. 

She  faced  him  with  a  sort  of  distressed 
fierceness.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Schuyler,"  she  cried,  "  I 
am  afraid  you  are  right !  I  have  been  wasting 
my  thunder ! " 

He  laughed,  in  a  strange  flurried  manner. 
**  Why  are  you  so  fond  of  Meta  Schuyler  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  I  am  fond  of  doing  good  —  if  I  can." 

"  There  are  more  ways  than  one  of  doing 
good,"  he  murmured.  "  I  think  you  have  it  in 
your  power  to  bring  me  consolation  —  if  you 
chose  —  if  you  would  listen  to  me.  Yes, 
Agnes,"  he  repeated,  in  a  voice  that  she  had 
never  heard  him  use  before  and  that  it  pierced 
her  with  regret  to  hear  him  use  now,  "  if  you 
would  only  listen  to  me." 

She  met  his  faint  smile  of  appeal  with  a 
glittering  hardness  in  her  blue  eyes.    "  I  would 
rather  not  listen  to  you,"   she  said,   and  her 
voice  had  a  positively  icy  ring. 
15 


226  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

After  that  she  quickened  her  pace  a  Httle. 
Schuyler  walked  beside  her  with  head  some- 
what drooped.  Not  another  word  was  spoken 
between  them  till  they  had  almost  left  the 
Park.  A  damp  northerly  breeze  had  sprung 
up  ;  the  vapor-blurred  sun  drooped  westward,  a 
ball  of  opaque  crimson.  "  It  has  grown  chilly," 
said  Agnes,  at  length.  '^  This  is  treacherous 
"weather." 

"  Yes,  it  has  grown  decidedly  chilly,"  said 
Schuyler,  in  an  odd  voice. 


XI. 

CHUYLER  left  Agnes  at  her  cousin's 
door.  Fragmentary  and  almost  spas- 
modic scraps  of  talk  had  passed  be- 
tween them  during  the  homeward  journey. 
Agnes  was  no  longer  excited  or  angry  ;  a 
grievous  disheartenment  had  succeeded  every 
other  feeling.  After  all,  Meta  had  seen  more 
clearly  than  she  had  seen.  Why  had  she  not 
profited  by  the  warning  }  Why  had  she  blun- 
dered headlong  into  this  awkward,  fatal  dis- 
covery .?  .  .  .  When  Schuyler  bade  her  good- 
by  she  felt  a  kind  of  dreary  relief.  She  was 
absolutely  without  one  thrill  of  self-gratulation 
as  she  reviewed  the  recent  turn  of  events. 
Her  generous,  disinterested  impulse  had  risen 
high   and   pure ;    no    prompting  of   mere  flat- 


228  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

tered  vanity  could  either  soil  or  displace  it. 
Agnes  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  fem- 
inine, and  perhaps  under  different  circumstan- 
tial conditions  the  surprise  of  the  afternoon 
might  have  made  self-esteem  tingle  if  it  waked 
no  stronger  emotion.  But  any  such  result  was 
now  impossible :  she  simply  deplored,  from 
the  depths  of  her  heart,  what  seemed  to  show 
her,  in  cruel  colors,  the  certainty  of  Meta 
Schuyler's  unchanged  future. 

She  had  scarcely  reached  her  own  apart- 
ment before  a  knock  sounded  at  the  door,  and 
presently  Mrs.  Leroy  entered,  holding  a  sealed 
envelope. 

"  Here  is  a  telegram,  Agnes,"  said  her 
cousin.     ''  It  came  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago." 

''  A  telegram  !  "  faltered  Agnes.  She  reached 
out  her  hand  for  the  envelope,  in  pale  alarm, 
and  tore  it  open  with  trembling  fingers.  Her 
thoughts  had  flown  to  the  Cliffes,  and  a  hun- 
dred fears  besieged  her  palpitating  heart.  In 
a  few  seconds  she  had  read  these  lines  :  — 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  229 

"  Yotcr  atuit  is  very  ill.  Come  to  its  as  soon 
as  yo2L  can.     She  zvisJics  greatly  to  see  yojc. 

Robert  Cliffe." 

''  Agnes,  what  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Leroy.     "  You  are  as  pale  as  death  !  " 

Agnes  handed  the  paper  to  her  cousin. 
Then  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  her 
face  for  a  moment.  A  little  later  she  rose 
again,  speaking  in  firm,  determined  tones. 

"I  must  start  to-night  if  possible." 

"Not  to-night,  surely,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy. 
"  To-morrow,  if  you  must,  but  not  to-night." 

Agnes  scarcely  heard  these  words.  "  I  must 
learn  about  the  trains,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Leroy  walked  toward  the  door.  "  Riv- 
ington  is  at  home,"  she  told  Agnes.  "  I  will 
bring  him  here  at  once." 

She  left  the  room,  soon  returning  with  her 
brother.  She  had  taken  the  telegram  with 
her,  and  Rivington  appeared  holding  it  in  his 
hand.  They  found  Agnes  pacing  the  floor, 
with  nervous  steps  and  colorless  face. 


230  A  HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  I  will  make  inquiries  at  the  nearest  ho- 
tel," said  Rivington,  "and  find  out  just  when 
you  can  start." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Agnes.  She  laid  her  hand 
on  Rivington's  arm ;  her  eyes  burned  keenly. 
"  Pray  be  as  quick  as  you  can." 

*'  Yes,"  said  Rivington,  with  a  brief  pitying 
look.     He  turned  toward  the  door. 

As  he  disappeared  Agnes  again  dropped 
into  a  seat,  staring  fixedly  at  the  carpet. 

Mrs.  Leroy  went  up  to  her  and  sat  down  at 
her  side.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  am  very 
sorry  for  you.  You  have  never  spoken  much 
to  me  of  Mrs.  Cliffe.  I  suppose  you  are  quite 
fond  of  her." 

The  words  had  for  Agnes,  in  her  then 
mood,  a  sort  of  oily  artificiality.  "Fond  of 
my  aunt !  "  she  cried.  "  I  love  her  dearly  — 
dearly"! "     And  then  she  burst  into  tears. 

Mrs.  Leroy  watched  her  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  "It  will  be  a  long  journey,"  she  at 
length  said ;  "  I  don't  know  that  you  ought  to 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  23 1 

take  it  alone.  Perhaps  Frangoise  had  better 
go  with  you.  It  is  almost  comj^romising  for 
a  young  girl  like  yourself  to  travel  alone." 

"I  deserve  this  punishment!"  exclaimed 
Agnes,  wildly.  '*  I  should  never  have  let  them 
go  without  me  !  They  insisted  — but  I  should 
have  rebelled  !  " 

Mrs.  Leroy  stared.  This  despairing  aban- 
donment made  Agnes  seem  to  her  like  a  new 
person.  She  felt  as  if  a  sudden  light  were  be- 
ing thrown  upon  her  cousin's  nature  ;  she 
felt,  too,  that  the  coming  of  Agnes  within  her 
own  household  was  being  presented  in  a  novel 
aspect  ;  and  the  aspect  by  no  means  pleased 
her. 

"  Really,"  she  said,  in  constrained  tones,  "  I 
thought  that  you  wanted  to  come." 

"  Wanted  to  come  !  "  echoed  Agnes,  utterly 
forgetful  of  everything  save  her  own  self-re- 
proach. "  It  almost  broke  my  heart  to  leave 
them.  I  have  been  homesick  ever  since ;  for 
they  were   my   home !     Aunt    Louisa,    Uncle 


232  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Robert,  and  Marianna  —  they  were  all  that  I 
had  in  the  world  to  love.  And  they  were  so 
fond  of  me!  It  cost  them  such  suffering  to 
give  me  up  !  Oh,  I  see  my  folly  now  —  when 
it  is  too  late  !  " 

The  last  words  ended  in  passionate  sobbing. 
But  Mrs.  Leroy  looked  utterly  untouched. 
She  might  have  pitied  the  grief  beside  her 
if  it  had  not  stung  her  pride ;  and  with  this 
woman  pride  was  the  soonest  stung  because 
easiest  reached ;  it  ensheathed  her  character 
as  the  husk  ensheathes  the  ear. 

She  sat  perfectly  silent,  watching  Agnes's 
tears  till  their  paroxysmal  force  had  partially 
subsided.  A  little  afterward  Rivington  reen- 
tered the  room.  He  had  an  air  of  ruffled  maj- 
esty ;  he  had  probably  been  in  a  hurry  for 
one  of  the  very  few  times  during  his  elegant, 
inert  life. 

"There  is  no  quicker  way  for  you  to  go," 
he  said,  addressing  Agnes,  "  than  by  starting 
to-morrow  morning  at  seven  o'clock.     I  have 


A   HOPELESS   CASE. 


OJ 


made  full  inquiries,  and  I  find  that  you  will 
gain  no  time  by  leaving  earlier,  on  account  of 
the  non-connection  between  trains." 

A  new  idea  suddenly  struck  Agnes.  "  But 
I  must  telegraph  back  to  them,"  she  said, 
brokenly.  She  hurried  toward  her  writing- 
table,  took  paper  and  a  pencil,  and  began  to 
scrawl  a  message,  with  shaking  hand.  The 
message  ran  thus  :  — 

"  /  ivill  start  as  soon  as  possible.  God  bless 
all  of  y OIL  I  Agnes." 

She  hastily  rose,  holding  the  scrap  of  paper 
on  which  these  words  were  written ;  she  was 
the  picture  of  misery  and  perplexity.  "You 
will  have  this  sent  for  me,  will  you  not  t "  she 
appealed  to  Mrs.  Leroy. 

Rivington  was  abruptly  heard,  at  this  point, 
addressing  a  servant  who  stood  in  the  open 
doorway.  But  Agnes  immediately  turned,  and 
perhaps  her  eyes  were  quicker  than  his.  She 
saw  that  the  servant  held  an  envelope.  "  Is  it 
for  me  } "  she  cried.     And  then,  as  the  girl  ex- 


234  ^   HOPELESS  CASE. 

tended  her  hand  toward  Agnes,  the  latter 
quickly  recoiled,  as  though  in  terrified  fore 
boding. 

A  bitter  moan  left  her  lips.  ''  Oh,  she  is 
dead  —  I  know  it !  Aunt  Louisa  is  dead  !  " 
swept  piteously  through  the  room. 

Rivington  took  the  envelope.  He  at  once 
saw  that  it  was  another  telegram.  "Let  me 
open  it,"  he  said  to  Agnes,  who  stood  watch- 
ing him  with  parted  lips. 

She  moved  her  head,  in  speechless  acqui- 
escence. Rivington  understood  her ;  a  mo- 
ment afterward  he  was  running  his  eye  over 
the  new  message.  "Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  "good 
news  ! " 

A  light  seemed  to  flash  across  the  face  of 
Agnes.  She  sprang  to  Rivington's  side  ;  he 
held  the  paper  for  her  while  she  read  these 
words  :  — 

"  Your  aunt  is  viiich  better.  The  danger  is 
passed.  Marianna  will  ivrite  very  soon.  Do 
not  come,  and  forgive  ns  for  alarming  y  021. 

Robert  Cliffe." 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  235 

Agnes  burst  into  tears  once  more,  while 
Rivington  handed  the  message  to  his  sister. 
The  next  instant  she  laughed  with  hysterical 
sharpness,  throwing  up  her  hands  like  an  ex- 
ultant child,  while  the  tears  were  still  stream- 
ing from  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Leroy  and  Riving- 
ton exchanged  glances. 

"  I  shall  see  my  dear  aunt  again  !  "  she  now 
cried,  with  the  strange  pathos  of  mingled  grief 
and  joy.  "  I  have  not  been  so  severely  pun- 
ished, after  all !  Oh,  thank  Heaven  that  she 
has  been  spared  !  If  she  had  died  I  —  I 
should  never  have  forgiven  myself.  But  what 
am  I  saying .?  Die }  No,  no,  she  is  better ; 
perhaps  she  has  not  been  so  very  ill,  after  all. 
Uncle  Robert  is  absurdly  fond  of  her ;  he  grew 
frightened  and  sent  for  me.  Yes  —  yes,  it  was 
only  that  !  Oh,  I  am  so  happy  —  so  very 
happy  ! " 

"  My  dear  Agnes,  you  must  try  to  compose 
yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy. 

But  more  than  an  hour  passed  before  Ag- 


236  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

nes  regained  her  composure.  By  this  time 
dinner  was  served,  but  she  dined,  at  Mrs. 
Leroy's  suggestion,  within  her  own  apartment. 
Shortly  afterward  she  began  a  long  letter  to 
the  Cliffes.  It  was  a  letter  full  of  passionate 
love ;  and  it  contained  a  certain  resolve  openly 
stated. 

Just  as  Agnes  had  finished  sealing  and  di- 
recting it,  Mrs.  Leroy  made  her  appearance. 
"  You  are  better,  my  dear  }  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  well,"  answered  Agnes. 
"  You  have  seen  my  first  case  of  hysteria," 
she  added,  smiUng.  "  I  hope  it  will  be  my 
last." 

"  You  had  a  severe  shock,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy. 
"  There  was  every  reason  why  it  should  affect 
your  nerves."  After  a  little  pause  she  went 
on  :  "  Your  friend,  Mr.  Speed,  has  called  to 
see  you.     Shall  you  be  able  to  receive  him  } " 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes,  promptly  rising.  "  Can 
I  ask  you  to  let  one  of  the  servants  post  this 
as  soon  as  possible } "  she   continued,  giving 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  237 

Mrs.  Leroy  the  letter  which  she  had  just 
written. 

She  found  Mr.  Speed  alone  in  the  drawing- 
room.  His  visif,  at  such  an  hour,  was  in- 
tensely welcome  to  her.  She  unconsciously 
pressed  his  hand  for  an  instant.  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Speed,"  she  began,  ''  I  have  something  most 
important  to  tell  you.  It  begins  sadly,  but  it 
ends  hopefully."  And  then  she  narrated  the 
story  of  the  two  telegrams. 

"  So  now  your  fears  arc  quieted,  of  course," 
said  Mr.  Speed  when  she  had  finished. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Agnes;  "how  is  that 
possible  .^  You  can't  think  what  anxiety  I 
still  feel.  I  so  long  to  end  it  —  to  join  them 
there  in  the  West,  for  good  and  all ! " 

"  For  good  and  all  !  "  .  .  .  Mr.  Speed  re- 
peated the  words  in  a  dismayed  monotone. 
Agnes  had  not  noticed  till  then  that  his  face 
was  leaner  and  deeper-lined  beneath  its  large 
over-jutting  forehead,  where  the  heavy  black 
hair  hung  loose  and  straight.  The  dark  fixity 
of  his  look  now  embarrassed  her. 


238  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  go.  To-day  has  decided  me.  I 
shall  leave  the  day  after  to-morrow.     I"  .  .  . 

The  next  words  faltered  bn  Agnes's  lips. 
She  saw  that  the  man  beside  her  was  greatly 
agitated.  She  could  not  fail  to  understand 
why.  He  was  making  the  truth  too  nakedly 
plain. 

Mr.  Speed  slowly  rose.  He  came  very  close 
to  Agnes  ;  he  stretched  out  both  hands  toward 
her ;  his  face  wore  an  immense  solemnity. 
"Will  you  not  stay.?"  he  said.  "Will  you  not 
stay  and  be  my  wdfe }  " 

Agnes  flushed  crimson,  dropping  her  eyes 
for  a  moment.  ''  I  cannot,",  she  murmured, 
very  faintly. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  never  care 
for  any  woman  but  you.  It  has  been  this  way 
almost  since  the  first  hour  that  we  met.  It 
will  be  this  way  always.  Will  you  not  think 
it  over }  Will  you  not  let  me  go  now,  and  see 
you  at  some  other  time,  when  you  have  re- 


A   HOPELESS   CASE. 


239 


fleeted,  deliberated  ?  I  am  not  so  poor ;  my 
outlook  is  growing  better  as  time  passes.  I 
will  work  for  you,  and  treasure  you  beyond 
price.  You  know  my  aims,  my  hopes — we 
have  talked  together  so  often.  Will  you  not 
share  these  .-^  Do  not  answer  w^ith  haste.  I 
shall  not  press  you  for  an  answer.  I  will 
come  again." 

"I  would  let  you  come  again,"  said  Agnes, 
"if  it  could  profit  either  of  us."  She  was  per- 
fectly calm  now ;  the  flush  had  quite  faded 
from  her  face,  though  her  eyes  sparkled  un- 
wontedly.  "  But  I  cannot  marry  you,  Mr. 
Speed.  I  honor  you,  but  I  cannot  be  your 
wife." 

"  You  have  no  love  for  me  .^"  His  question 
rang  with  the  solemnity  of  anguish. 

"  No,"  said  Agnes,  using  the  cruelty  of  in- 
evitable candor,  "  I  do  not  love  you." 

Mr.  Speed  held  out  his  hand  —  the  big 
hand  in  the  brown  glove.  "  Good-by,"  he 
said.     "  Good-by,  and  God  bless  you  !  " 


240 


A   HOPELESS  CASE. 


Agnes  gave  him  her  own  hand,  rising. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Speed,"  she  whispered,  ''I  am  so 
sorry  !  " 

He  turned  and  left  the  room  without  an- 
other word. 


XII. 


GNES  went  to  her  room  a  little  while 
after  Mr.  Speed's  departure.  It  was 
still  early  in  the  evening.  She  seated 
herself  before  her  writing-table  and  leaned  her 
head  upon  her  hand,  thinking.  At  length  she 
began  to  write ;  her  pen  hurried  over  the 
paper  with  swift  impetuosity ;  she  was  com- 
posing a  letter  to  Mr.  Speed. 

She  poured  into  her  letter  the  warm  full- 
ness of  a  devout  friendship.  She  wrote  with 
tender  eloquence  and  unmistakable  sorrow. 
She  expressed  the  most  heartfelt  wishes  for 
his  future  happiness  and  success.  She  blamed 
herself  that  she  should  have  been  subject- 
ed, however  transiently,  to  the  misfortune  of 
clouding  so  earnest,  rare,  and  capable  a  life. 
i6 


242  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

She  declared  her  sincere  hope  that  they 
should  meet  again  at  some  day  when  his 
present  trouble  had  passed,  as  she  was  con- 
fident that  it  would  pass,  and  when  the  inti- 
macy from  which  she  had  reaped  so  many 
precious  results  might  be  renewed  amid  cir- 
cumstances of  a  clearer  mutual  understand- 
ing. 

After  she  had  finished  writing  her  letter, 
she  read  it  throusfh.  After  she  had  finished 
reading  it,  she  tore  it  into  fragments. 

"Of  what  use  could  it  be?"  she  thought. 
"It  could  only  freshen  his  sufferings.  Let 
him  think  me  cruel,  if  he  must  ;  that  may 
help -to  heal  his  wound  the  quicker." 

Shortly  afterward  a  knock  sounded  at  the 
closed  door,  and  Agnes  rose  to  admit  Mrs. 
Leroy. 

"  So  Mr.  Speed  has  gone  } "  said  her  cousin. 
"  I  had  no  idea  of  it ;  I  supposed  that  you 
were  with  him  in  the  drawino;-room.  He 
made  a  very  short  visit." 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  243 

"Yes,"  said  Agnes. 

Mrs.  Leroy  seated  herself,  and  Agnes  did 
the  same.  The  former  was  robed  in  one  of 
Madame  Fourbellini's  most  triumphant  ef- 
forts ;  this  artist  might  have  told  you  that 
it  was  meant  to  express  the  dawn  of  resig- 
nation in  a  bereaved  spirit ;  its  only  touches 
of  color  were  sombre  purple,  and  these  had 
been  veiled  under  dark  films  of  tulle,  while 
a  single  spray  of  purple  nestled  amid  the 
wearer's  blond  tresses. 

"My  dear  Agnes,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  in 
smooth  semitone,  "  I  wonder  if  you  will  feel 
offended  at  a  little  proposition  of  mine.  It 
concerns  your  friend,  Mr.  Speed.  Frankly, 
do  you  not  find  him  a  trifle  tiresome } " 

"I  have  never  found  him  so,"  said  Agnes, 
while  a  sort  of  tingling  indignation  seemed 
to  creep  through  her  veins. 

"But,  my  dear,"  resumed  Mrs.  Leroy,  put- 
ting her  graceful  head  a  little  on  one  side. 
and  lowering  her  eyelids  till  their  droop  well 


244  ^   HOPELESS  CASE. 

contrasted  with  the  slight,  cold  smile  that 
she  wore,  "  you  must  have  observed  that  this 
Mr.  Speed  is  curiously  different  from  the 
people  by  whom  you  are  at  present  sur- 
rounded." 

"  Oh,  I  have  observed  that,"  said  Agnes. 
"  Excuse  me,  cousin  Augusta,"  she  went  on, 
after  a  momentary  silence,  "but  have  you 
not  forgotten  the  proposition  of  which  you 
just  spoke  }      I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

"  Oh,  you  quite  frighten  me  out  of  making 
it,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  a  short,  frigid 
laugh.  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  put  my 
head  into  a  hornets'-nest,  really !  You  are 
so  evidently  prepared  to  do  battle  for  your 
friend,  that  I  suppose  you  will  think  both 
him  and  yourself  quite  insulted  if  I  suggest 
that  his  further  visits  upon  you  are  .  .  . 
unadvisable." 

It  was  Agnes's  turn  to  laugh.  *'  I  should 
make  a  very  poor  champion  for  Mr.  Speed," 
she  said,  "and  I  don't  think  that  he  stands 


A  HOPELESS  CASE.  245 

in  much  need  of  my  defense.  For  myself, 
I  am  very  far  from  feeling  insulted  ;  but 
no  doubt  Mr.  Speed  would  have  the  right 
to  feel  so  if  I  told  him  that  you  wished  me 
to  forbid  him  your  house." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  the 
smile  dying  from  her  lips,  and  her  slim, 
supple  figure  straightening  itself.  "  I  never 
authorize  impertinences,  and  it  is  not  the 
best  taste  in  you,  my  dear,  to  imply  that  I 
would." 

Agnes  shook  her  head  in  satirical  puzzle- 
ment. "  Pardon  me,"  she  answered,  "  if  I 
am  obtuse  enough  to  have  misunderstood 
that,  cousin  Augusta." 

Mrs.  Leroy  had  turned  pale.  "  Oh,  your 
dullness  of  perception  is  your  own  affair," 
she  said,  with  heightened  voice.  "  Upon  my 
word,  I  did  not  imagine  that  you  were  de- 
votedly attached  to  Mr.   Speed." 

"  I  respect  him  very  much,"  replied  Agnes, 
tranquilly.  "  His  intellect  and  character  com- 
mand my  respect." 


246  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  one  cannot  say  the 
same  for  his  manners." 

"/  can,"  returned  Agnes,  quickly. 

"You  are  easy  to  please,"  declared  Mrs. 
Leroy,  with  crisp  irony.  "  We  must  have 
very  different  definitions  of  the  word  *  gen- 
tleman.' You  don't  use  the  same  dictionary 
that  I  use ;  that  is  evident." 

"  No,"  said  Agnes,  dryly,  "  I  do  not.  Yours 
is  a  pocket-dictionary,  cousin  Augusta,  with 
a  gilt  clasp,  and  not  much  heavier  than  your 
fan  or  gloves.  Mine  is  altogether  a  larger 
volume  ;   it  goes  into  derivations." 

Mrs.  Leroy  grew  paler  yet.  She  felt  very 
angry,  but  she  was,  as  we  know,  what  is 
called  a  discreet  woman  ;  she  knew  when 
she  had  found  too  strong  an  adversary.  Be- 
sides, she  had  of  late  grown  to  like  Agnes, 
though  she  did  not  understand  her.  It  was 
a  narrow  nature  trying  to  comprehend  a  spa- 
cious one,  yet  the  narrow  nature  had  occa- 
sional   vague    perceptions    of    its    neighbor's 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  247 

finer  breadths.  In  a  certain  sense,  too,  she 
had  grown  proud  of  Agnes.  The  girl  had 
some  peculiarities  that  baffled  and  perplexed 
her,  but  altogether  she  had  made  Mrs.  Le- 
roy's  present  course  of  duteous  protection  a 
very  agreeable  pastime. 

And  so  it  happened  that  the  next  words 
which  this  lady  spoke  were  mild  enough  to 
be  called  conciliatory.  "  Come,  Agnes,"  she 
said,  "  there  is  no  necessity  for  us  to  quarrel 
over  Mr.  Speed.  If  you  like  him,  I  don't. 
If  you  want  him  to  come  here,  I  don't.  I 
can't  see  how  you  can  Like  him  and  yet  care 
for  such  men  as  Oscar  Schuyler,  or  Livvy 
Maxwell,  or  even  Mr.  Gascoigne.  Still,  I 
have  said  my  last  word  on  the  subject.  Do 
precisely  as  you  please." 

Agnes  sat  quite  still  for  a  moment,  with 
lowered  eyes.  Then  she  rose,  came  slowly 
near  to  Mrs.  Leroy,  and  stood  beside  her. 
"Cousin  Augusta,"  she  said,  "we  have  both 
of   us  spoken   almost   the  last   that    need   be 


248  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

spoken  either  on  this  or  on  any  subject.  It  is 
best  that  I  should  tell  you  the  truth  at  once. 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  join  the  Cliff es 
on  Thursday." 

"  Join  the  Cliffes,  Agnes  1    You  mean  .?"... 

"I  mean  to  live  always  with  them  —  not  to 
leave  them  asfain." 

Mrs.  Leroy  rose  like  one  in  a  stupor.  She 
put  her  hand  upon  her  forehead  ;  she  scanned 
Agnes's  face  with  incredulous  eyes.  "You 
£an't  possibly  mean  this  !  "  she  murmured. 

"  It  was  in  the  letter  that  I  gave  you  to- 
night," said  Agnes,  resolutely.  "  It  is  settled. 
I  could  not  help  it.  I  cannot  live  away  from 
them.     I  am  going  home." 

These  quiet  sentences  were  like  so  many 
convulsive  explosions  to  Mrs.  Leroy's  aston- 
ished mind.  If  she  had  put  a  purse  of  gold 
pieces  in  the  hands  of  some  beggar,  and  had 
them  politely  returned,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  racked  with  consternation.  She  had 
never  dreamed  of  this  contingency.    That  Ag- 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  249 

nes  should  feel  the  strangeness  of  her  altered 
life  was  possible  enough  ;  that  she  should 
sometimes  find  its  novelty  uncongenial  was 
also  supposable.  But  that  she  should  calmly 
renounce  its  superabundant  advantages,  after 
once  having  experienced  them,  was  beyond 
conception.  To  Mrs.  Leroy,  in  that  immen- 
sity of  self-satisfaction  with  which  she  had  for 
years  surveyed  her  social  surroundings,  it 
seemed  that  fate  had  enviably  Hfted  her  above 
a  vast  aspiring  throng.  With  an  absurd  mis- 
calculation, she  overestimated  the  number  of 
those  who  jealously  viewed  her  prosperity. 
During  her  girlhood  she  had  been  courted  ; 
during  the  brilliant  sovereignty  of  her  married 
days  she  had  constantly  known  what  it  was  to 
have  her  countenance  and  favor  sought  with 
zeal  by  those  who  believed  it  precious.  She 
had  always  been  a  great  lady  in  her  way,  but 
she  made  the  mistake  that,  because  a  few  lim- 
ited hundreds  flocked  about  her  with  admiring 
homage,    an    unseen    majority   of    thousands 


250  A   HOPELESS   CASE. 

longed  to  show  her  equal  allegiance.  The 
multiformity  of  human  ambition  was  a  fact 
that  did  not  enter  her  consciousness.  She  had 
a  pleasant,  half-formed  conviction  that  nearly 
everybody  desired  a  place  in  her  visiting-book. 

"  If  you  commit  this  folly,"  she  now  said  to 
Agnes,  with  husky,  trembling  tones,  "  you  will 
regret  it  through  the  rest  of  your  life." 

Agnes  scarcely  knew  what  answer  to  make. 
The  change  in  her  cousin  startled  her  ex- 
tremely. Mrs.  Leroy  had  grown  livid  to  the 
very  lips.  She  appeared  overwhelmed,  thun- 
derstruck. 

"  If  I  should  regret  it,"  Agnes  presently  re- 
plied, "the  fault  will  be  all  my  own.  And  I 
hope  that  you  will  believe  me  sensible  of  your 
kindness,  cousin  Augusta  —  and  grateful  for 
it  as  well." 

"  Grateful ! "  almost  gasped  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  I 
have  never  known  more  rank  ingratitude. 
And  you  think  that  you  can  afford  to  throw 
away  opportunities  after  this  insane  fashion  .-* 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  2$  I 

When  I  have  introduced  you  among  the  best 
people  —  given  you  the  chance  to  lancer  your- 
self by  a  distinguished  marriage,  you  suddenly 
tell  me  that  you  prefer  being  nobody  and  liv- 
ing among  nobodies.  Oh,  it  is  preposter- 
ous ! " 

"  My  aunt  and  uncle  are  very  far  from  no- 
bodies," said  Agnes.  She  felt  indestructibly 
placid  ;  her  cousin's  wrath  seemed  born  of  a 
pitiable  arrogance,  and  she  now  watched  it 
with  a  certain  species  of  compassion.  "  It  is 
much  better,"  she  went  on,  "for  me  to  tell  you 
that  I  am  not  happy  here  —  partly  because 
I  long  for  my  dear  relatives'  company,  and 
partly  because  of  other  reasons." 

"May  I  ask  what  other  reasons  .^ "  said  Mrs. 
Leroy,  throwing  back  her  head  in  haughty  in- 
dignation. 

Agnes  mused  for  a  moment.  "  Yes,"  she 
then  said,  "  since  I  grant  that  you  have  the 
vight  to  ask  me.  Well,  cousin  Augusta,  I  am 
not  fitted  for  the  life  that  now  surrounds  me." 


252  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not,  at  first,"  harshly 
interrupted  Mrs.  Leroy,  "  but  of  late  you  have 
grown  much  better  suited  to  it." 

''  Thanks,"  said  Agnes,  with  a  smile  ;  "  I 
have  not  observed  the  improvement  myself ; 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  very  much  the  same 
sort  of  person  as  when  I  first  came  to  Lafay- 
ette Place.  .  .  .  However,  you  somewhat  mis- 
understand my  meaning.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  how  I  please  your  friends,  since  you  force 
me  to  speak  plainly,  but  of  how  they  please 
me." 

"  Indeed ! " 

"Candidly,  yes."  Agnes  now  seated  her- 
self close  to  Mrs.  Leroy.  "  Cousin  Augusta," 
she  proceeded,  "I  did  not  expect  to  find  either 
you  or  your  friends  just  what  I  have  found 
them.  If  this  makes  you  angry,  pray  listen 
to  me  a  little  further  before  you  accuse  me 
of  an  impertinence.  I  am  too  sincerely  anx- 
ious that  you  shall  know  my  exact  feelings, 
for  any  thought  of  impertinence  to  enter  my 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  253 

mind.  I  desire  that  the  motives  of  my  de- 
parture may  be  known  to  you  in  full.  And 
though  you  may  afterward  greatly  condemn 
the  course  I  am  taking,  you  must  at  least  al- 
low that  I  have  been  guilty  of  no  false  deal- 
ings." 

Mrs.  Leroy's  face  was  concealing  a  sarcas- 
tic sneer,  though  rather  ill.  "  You  should  not 
be  surprised,"  she  said,  with  haughty  curt- 
ness,  "if  I  expressed  indifference  as  to  pre- 
cisely how  my  friends  have  failed  in  gaining 
your  approval." 

**  Oh,  I  am  very  well  aAvare,"  returned  Ag- 
nes, *'  that  you  must  look  upon  me  as  grossly 
presumptuous.  But  I  cannot  help  that ;  I 
want  you  to  understand  just  why  I  am  going. 
It 's  half  because  you  and  those  about  you  be- 
long to  another  world  from  mine.  Yours  is  a 
world  that  laughs  and  enjoys  itself  a  great 
deal,  that  reads  little,  thinks  little,  and  is  very 
careless  of  to-morrow.  It  is  an  exceedingly 
dainty  world,  with  no  .sympathies  for  what  lies 


254  '^    HOPELESS  CASE. 

beyond  its  limits,  no  interests  that  do  not  con- 
cern its  present  amusements.  It  sets  large 
store  by  its  exclusive  selectness ;  it  is  elegant, 
patrician,  high-bred.  I  like  much  of  it  from 
an  outward  point  of  view,  but  there  is  much 
that  from  an  inward  point  of  view  wearies  and 
disheartens  me.  I  want  less  repression,  more 
genuineness,  warmer  impulse,  wider  intellect- 
ual reach.  I  cannot  find  it  here ;  I  can  find 
nothing  here  that  feeds  what  early  education 
has  taught  me  to  believe  my  better  longings. 
All  this  may  seem  vague  to  you,  but  perhaps 
if  I  spoke  further  I  should  fail  to  make  it 
clearer.  ...  I  hope  you  will  understand  me, 
but  even  if  you  do  not,  I  hope  that  we  shall 
still  part  friends." 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  away  as  Agnes  ended. 
She  walked  to  the  door,  and  paused  there  for 
a  moment.  Her  face  was  still  full  of  supercil- 
ious anger. 

"  You  will  live  to  repent  all  this  high-flown 
sentiment,"  she  murmured,  under  her  breath. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  255 

"  When  that  repentance  comes,  you  will  prop- 
erly value  what  you  have  lost."  Immediately 
afterward  she  glided  from  the  room. 

Agnes  sank  into  a  chair.  A  subtle  smile 
had  touched  her  lips.  "  Oh,  my  cousin,"  she 
thought,  "  if  you  could  only  see  yourself  for  an 
instant  as  I  see  you  now  !  " 


XIII. 


?CHUYLER  went  home,  that  same  af- 
ternoon, in  a  very  disturbed  condi- 
tion^ Agnes's  gently  earnest  voice, 
broken  by  sweet  throbs  of  feeling,  haunted 
him  through  subsequent  hours  ;  her  womanly 
face,  too,  with  its  virginal,  unworldly  gaze, 
lived  like  a  picture  in  his  memory.  At  times 
he  strove  to  shake  off  the  influence ;  at  times 
he  courted  its  delicate  yet  cogent  spell.  Din- 
ing alone  at  his  club,  that  evening,  he  avoid- 
ed all  associates  from  then  till  midnight,  and 
passed  the  interval  in  unaccustomed  solitude. 
That  night  he  slept  very  ill,  and  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  he  called  upon  I\Ieta  Schuyler. 

She  was  not  at  home.     He  spent  the  rest 
of   the   day  quite    aimlessly,   as    usual.     That 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  257 

evening  he  went  to  a  great  state-dinner  at  a 
certain  Mrs.  Abernethy  Smith's.  The  dinner 
was  to  be  succeeded  by  a  ball,  whose  possible 
splendors  had  been  diligently  discussed  among 
polite  circles  through  the  previous  fortnight. 

Mrs.  Abernethy  Smith  was  the  wife  of  a 
wealthy  Wall  Street  broker,  who  had  shot  into 
recent  celebrity  by  his  bold  financial  enter- 
prises. He  belonged  to  that  class  of  successr 
ful  ''operators"  who  direct  the  resources  of 
sudden  millions  towards  attaining  social  emi- 
nence. He  was  a  slender  little  man,  with 
nervous  dark  eyes,  meagre  conversation,  and 
a  feverish  abruptness  of  movement.  He  had 
come  into  the  "  street "  a  few  years  ago  from 
an  obscure  Eastern  town,  and  had  rapidly 
made  himself  felt  as  an  unusual  power  amid 
the  combative  ferments  of  speculation.  He 
spent  his  money  with  princely  largess,  and  he 
had  a  handsome,  bustling  wife  who-  assisted 
him  in  doing  so.  For  one  year  Mr.  and  Mrs 
Abernethy  Smith  struggled  to  make  aristoc- 
17 


258  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

racy  recognize  them.  At  the  end  of  the  year 
their  victory  had  been  complete  ;  their  irresis- 
tible dinners  had  conquered.  Not  long  ago 
one  of  Oscar  Schuyler's  friends  had  said  to 
him  :  "  So  Abernethy  Smith  has  made  society 
swallow  him,  after  all." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Schuyler,  cruelly,  '^  and 
why  not  ?  Think  of  the  wines  he  gives  them 
to  wash  him  dowm  with." 

Schuyler  appeared  a  little  late,  this  even- 
ing, in  the  Smiths'  drawing-room.  A  large 
company  had  already  assembled  there.  The 
apartments  w^ere  one  dazzling  opulence  of 
ornamentation.  The  walls  were  hidden  with 
paintings  of  immense  value ;  a  Meissonier, 
worth  its  weight  in  gold  a  number  of  times 
over,  was  wedged  inconspicuously  between  a 
famous  Gerome  and  an  unrivaled  Daubigny. 
Costly  cabinets,  Oriental  rugs,  incomparable 
china,  were  crowded  together  in  what  seemed 
at  first  one  sumptuous  confusion,  but  after- 
wards revealed  dexterous  tact  of  arrangement. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  259 

Beyond,  through  half-drawn  draperies,  you 
saw  the  lustrous  waxed  floor  of  a  princely 
ball-room,  with  prismatic  chandeliers  glitter- 
ins:  amons:  environments  of  rose-color  and 
silver. 

"  You  are  to  take  in  Miss  Meta  Schuyler," 
said  Mrs.  Abernethy  Smith  to  her  recently- 
arrived  guest,  who  barely  concealed  a  start 
when  he  heard  this  decree. 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  with  a  mechanical  bow 
and  smile.  "Will  you  please  tell  me  where 
I  am  to  find  her .? "  he  added,  looking  around. 

"  She  is  talking  with  Mr.  Gascoigne,"  re- 
plied his  hostess,  "  near  one  of  the  front 
windows."  And  then  Mrs.  Abernethy  Smith 
turned  away  to  receive  her  last  dinner-guest, 
a  certain  powerful  queen  of  one  fashionable 
clique,  who  had  rather  alarmed  her  by  not 
appearing  sooner.  Mrs.  Smith's  dress  was 
pale-green  velvet,  and  so  stiffly  crusted  over 
with  masses  of  green  embroidery  that  its 
heavy  grandeurs  retarded  her  motions. 


26o  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Mr.  Gascoigne,  who  stood  at  the  edge  of 
the  sofa  where  Meta  Schuyler  was  seated, 
watched  this  emerald  lady  from  afar.  "  How 
magnificently  Mrs.  Smith  is  got  up ! "  he 
whispered  to  Meta,  leaning  down.  "  She 
can  hardly  walk,  though.  She  looks  like  a 
wounded  katydid." 

"  Say  butterfly,"  murmured  Meta.  "  The 
Smiths  have  left  their  chrysalis  state,  you 
know." 

Schuyler  came  up,  at  this  point,  and  shook 
hands  with  Meta  and  Mr.  Gascoigne.  Shortly 
afterward  everybody  went  into  the  dining- 
room.  Here  gleamed  a  long  table,  literally 
banked  with  flowers,  one  superb  bower  of 
bloom  rising  from  its  midst.  As  the  guests 
took  their  seats,  charming  music  began  to 
sound  from  the  near  hall.  "  It  is  like  fairy- 
land," said  Meta  to  Schuyler,  who  was  seated 
at  her  side;  "is  it  not.?" 

"I  hope  fairy  land  was  a  nicer  place," 
said  Schuyler. 


A   HOPELESS   CASE.  26 1 

"Oh,  you  are  in  one  of  your  bored  moods." 

"  Yo7C  think  I  am  always  that." 

"  Well,  yes,  you  have  been  bored  for  a 
good  many  years." 

"I  was  not  bored  when  you  first  met  me." 

"That  is  a  long  time  ago." 

"  I  remember  it  very  well,"  said  Schuyler, 
sipping  a  glass  of  golden  wine.  "  Do  you 
remember   it .'' " 

''  Perfectly,"  answered  Meta.  "  I  had  lately 
come  from  abroad,  with  Aunt  Lydia.  It  was 
my  birthday;  I  was  just  sixteen;  there  was 
a  small  party  given  in  my  honor.  I  recol- 
lect how  furious  you  made  me,  by  coming 
up  to  where  I  sat  flirting  with  some  boyish 
intimate,  claiming  cousinship,  and  asking  me 
whether  I  had  on  my  first  long  dress.  It 
was  true  that  I  had,  and  this  was  what  made 
me  so  angry." 

"And  you  have  been  angry  ever  since, 
more  or  less." 

Meta  started.  "What  do  you  mean.?"  she 
said,  creasing  her  brows. 


262  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

"  Oh,  I  mean  that  you  have  never  quite 
taken  me  into  your  good  graces.  Of  course 
there  have  been  interregnums  in  your  dis- 
pleasure, but  on  the  whole  they  have  been 
brief   ones." 

Meta  answered  in  a  low  voice,  looking 
down.  "  We  have  had  some  serious  talks," 
she  said.  The  babble  of  fellow-con vivialists 
rose  all  about  them,  sounding  above  the  vo- 
luptuous music,  through  the  heavy-odored 
air. 

"  Yes,"  said  Schuyler,  in  swift,  peculiar 
tones,  "and  neither  of  us  has  been  much 
the  better  for  them  ;   have  we  }  " 

The  color  stole  into  Meta  s  face.  She  was 
still  looking  down.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  I  sup- 
pose not." 

A  silence  followed.     "  I  should  like  to  have 
one   more  serious    talk,"  Schuyler   at   length 
declared.     "But   perhaps  this    isn't   just  the 
place  for  it.  ...  I  don't  know,  however.  .   . 
What  do  you  say  }  " 


A   HOPELESS  CASE,  263 

Meta  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him 
quite  fixedly.  "  Are  you  in  earnest  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Thoroughly." 

"On  what  subject  is  our  serious  talk  to 
be  .? " 

"That  remains  untold.  I  must  first  find 
out  whether  your  frame  of  mind  is  properly 
receptive." 

"To  your  advice?"  asked  Meta,  with  a  lit- 
tle rebelHous  curl  of  the  lip. 

"  No,  to  my  treaty  of  peace.  I  should  like 
to  propose  one  ...  a  very  permanent  one, 
this  time  —  not  the  sort  of  patched-up  armi- 
stice that  you  and  I  have  repeatedly  tried  for. 
And  I  am  not  so  sure,  either,  that  the  time 
and  place  are  very  unfavorable.  I  don't  think 
the  empty  folly  of  the  life  that  you  and  I  are 
both  leading  was  ever  better  shown  than  just 
now.  Where  could  we  find  a  hoUower  bur- 
lesque on  hospitality  than  we  find  at  this  mo- 
ment .-*  where  a  more  florid  advertisement  of 


264  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

ambitious  pretension  ?  But  I  shan't  preach, 
though  the  text  is  tempting.  I  have  no  right 
to  do  so."  Schuyler  lowered  his  voice,  here, 
and  leaned  his  head  close  toward  Meta's. 
''  You  know  that  —  perhaps  you  know  it  bet- 
ter than  I  " .  .  . 

The  dinner  was  a  marvel  of  luxury.  Its 
numberless  courses  lasted  till  a  late  hour,  and 
then  the  ball  began,  on  a  scale  of  equal  splen- 
dor. Mrs.  Leroy  and  Agnes  entered  the  rooms 
at  about  eleven  o'clock.  Livingston  Maxwell 
saw  the  latter  from  a  distance  and  at  once 
glided  up  to  her. 

"  You  are  late,"  he  said.  *'  You  are  getting 
into  bad  habits." 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  come  at  all,"  answered 
Agnes.  "  But  I  changed  my  mind,  afterw^ard, 
as  you  see.     I  had  a  purpose  in  coming." 

"Can  I  ask  what  it  was  } " 

"  There  were  a  few  people  to  whom  I 
wished  to  say  good-by." 

"  Good-by  !  "  repeated  Maxwell,  opening  his 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  265 

genial  eyes  very  wide.  "  Where  on  earth  are 
you  going  ? " 

Ao^nes  told  him,  in  a  few  direct  words.  He 
looked  amazed  and  shocked  when  she  had 
finished.  "  I  can't  believe  it !  "  he  faltered. 
"  Ah,  I  see ;  we  have  disappointed  you  ;  I 
remember  your  own  words  to  me  the  first  day 
that  we  met." 

"  Everybody  has  not  disappointed  me,"  said 
Agnes,  pointedly,  as  their  eyes  met  in  one 
steady  look. 

"  Ah,"  said  Maxwell,  "  you  don't  know  how 
disappointed  /  am  !  " 

"  But  it  will  not  last  very  long  ;  you  take 
matters  so  easily." 

*'  That  is  unkind.  You  mean  that  there  is 
no  depth  about  me." 

"  Far  from  it ! "  contradicted  Agnes  ear- 
nestly ;  "  I  mean  that  you  are  the  sworn  en- 
emy of  everything  unpleasant.  Remember, 
you  once  explained  your  individuality  to  me.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  the  photograph  pleased 


266  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

me  ;  it  was  a  real  sun-picture.  If  all  the  peo- 
ple whom  I  have  met  had  been  as  happy  a 
discovery  to  me  as  you  were,  I  would  .  .  . 
Well,"  broke  off  Agnes,  laughing,  "  never 
mind  what  I  would  have  done." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  T^Iaxwell,  in  an  odd  voice. 
''  I  want  very  much  to  know." 

*'  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you.  I  would  have 
gone  to  see  my  relations  in  the  West,  but 
afterwards  I  would  have  returned." 

''  Then  I  am  not  strong  enough,  by  myself," 
said  Maxwell,  meaningly,  "to  induce  your 
return  .? " 

Agnes  laughed  again.  "  One  swallow  does 
not  make  a  summer." 

"It  might  try,"  said  Maxwell.  "Give  it  a 
chance." 

There  was  a  trouble  and  a  tremor  in  his 
tones  which  perhaps  the  music  and  the  com- 
mingled voices  caused  Agnes  to  miss,  and 
which  in  reality  bore  sharp  contrast  with  the 
lightness  of  the  words  themselves. 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  267 

"  I  am  sure  you  don't  want  me  to  forget 
you,"  Agnes  now  said,  "  and  I  assure  you  that 
there  is  no  danger  of  it.  You  are  one  of  my 
admirations,"  she  went  on,  with  a  frank  sim- 
plicity that  somehow  made  her  hearer  inwardly 
recoil.  '*  I  shall  have  many  a  chat  about  you 
with  my  aunt,  and  uncle,  and  cousin.  But  I 
shall  always  tell  them  that  they  can  never 
properly  appreciate  what  a  rare,  delightful 
person  you  are,  without  having  met  and  known 
you.  And  then  I  shall  tell  them  how  good 
you  were  to  me  ;  they  will  like  you  for  that, 
poor  dears  !  Honestly,  you  have  been  a  friend 
of  friends.  You  have  saved  me  from  at  least 
ten  stupid  evenings.  Upon  my  word,  I  some- 
times think  you  have  come  very  near  making 
a  belle  of  me." 

Just  then  two  other  gentlemen  joined  Ag- 
nes. A  moment  afterward  Livingston  Max- 
well left  her  side  with  considerable  sudden- 
ness. She  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face  as 
he  turned  away  ;  it  did  not  look  sunny  then, 


268  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

though  Agnes  failed  to  observe  that  it  was 
gloomy.  In  reality  a  distress  overspread  it 
which  her  final  glance  was  too  transient  to 
remark.  But  succeeding  circumstances  made 
her  recall  that  some  sort  of  change  had  been 
evident,  and  wonder  if  anything  in  the  amica- 
ble ardor  of  her  last  speech  could  possibly 
have  given  offense  to  this  paragon  of  kind- 
heartedness. 

Perhaps  twenty  minutes  later  Schuyler 
came  up  to  Agnes's  side.  There  was  some- 
how a  change  in  him ;  she  noticed  it  before 
he  had  spoken  three  words ;  but  she  could 
not  decide  what  it  was. 

"  Your  cousin  has  been  telling  me  of  your 
new  resolve,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  surprised  1 "  asked  Agnes. 

"  No.  I  w^as  prepared  for  it.  But  some- 
body else  is  very  surprised." 

"Oh,"  said  Agnes,  gathering  her  brows  a 
little  impatiently,  "  you  mean  Mrs.  Leroy  .'*  " 

"  No ;  I  mean  Meta  Schuyler.     She  is  not 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  269 

in  the  German  to-night.  She  wishes  to  see 
you.  I  know  where  she  is  waiting.  Will  you 
let  me  take  you  to  her  }  " 

"  Certainly." 

Agnes  looked  searchingly  at  Schuyler  while 
she  accepted  his  arm.  His  face  remained 
wholly  impassive.  They  found  Meta  half 
hidden  in  the  alcove  of  a  window  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  drawing-room.  She  rose  as 
Agnes  appeared  ;  she  clasped  Agnes's  hand  in 
her  own,  and  held  it  firmly  while  she  spoke. 

"  You  are  really  going  ? " 

^'  Yes." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  very  sorry  !  " 

The  two  women  stood  gazing  into  each 
other's  eyes.  Meta's  had  a  rich,  starry  glim- 
mer, and  her  cheeks  burned  like  roses. 

"  You  will  make  my  going  much  happier," 
murmured  Agnes,  "  if  you  have  good  news  to 
tell  me." 

"  Good  news  ?  " 

Meta   repeated    the    words   with    a   bright, 


2'JO  A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

abrupt  smile.  The  tapestries  of  the  alcove 
almost  entirely  shaded  them  from  the  general 
gaze.  Schuyler  had  stationed  himself  at  some 
little  distance  apart. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Agnes, 
answering  the  smile. 

Still  holding  her  hand,  Meta  leaned  close  to 
the  ear  of  Agnes  and  whispered  several  sen- 
tences. Then  Agnes  kissed  her  with  a  sweet, 
impetuous  fervor;  and  as  she  withdrew  her 
lips  Meta  saw  that  tears  glittered  in  her  eyes. 

"At  last  I"  exclaimed  Agnes,  joyfully,  but 
in  a  broken  voice. 

"  It  is  all  owing  to  you  !  "  said  Meta.  "  You 
brought  it  about.     He  confessed  that  to  me." 

Agnes  turned  away.  ]\Ieta  never  forgot  the 
lovely  look  her  face  wore  at  this  moment  "  I 
must  congratulate  him,"  Agnes  said,  leaving 
the  alcove.  .  .  . 

Not  long  afterward  Mrs.  Leroy  and  her 
cousin  met.  "  I  am  ready  to  go  now,"  said 
the  latter,  "whenever  you  are." 


A    HOPELESS  CASE.  2/1 

"  You  have  made  all  your  farewells  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Leroy,  in  a  calm  voice,  and  with  an  in- 
scrutable expression. 

"All  that  it  is  of  any  consequence  to  make," 
replied  Agnes.  *'  Oh,  by  the  way,"  she  added, 
an  instant  later,  "  there  is  still  Mr.  Maxwell  ; 
I  have  not  yet  said  good-by  to  him." 

"  He  is  not  leading  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
roy, looking  toward  the  brilliant  coterie  of 
dancers  in  the  near  ball-room.  "  But  I  dare 
say  he  can  be  found." 

Livingston  Maxwell  was  not  to  be  found, 
however.  Agnes  was  obliged  to  leave  with- 
out again  seeing  him. 


XIV. 


^^S/o^ I T  was  the  evening  of  the  next  day. 
Agnes  had  departed  that  afternoon 
for  the  \^'est.  Mrs.  Leroy  was  alone 
in  her  sitting-room.  A  novel  lay  on  her  lap, 
but  she  was  not  reading  it ;  she  was  thinking. 
It  was  almost  time  for  Rivington  to  return 
from  the  club.  A  fire  sparkled  with  ruddy 
vivacity  on  the  silver  -  grated  hearth.  The 
evening  was  somewhat  chilly,  and  Mrs.  Leroy 
had  drawn  rather  near  the  fireplace,  so  that 
its  light  sent  out  little  red  glints,  now  and 
then,  from  the  complex  jet  trimmings  tliat 
adorned  her  costume. 

Presently  Rivington  strolled  into  the  room 
and  seated  himself  at  his  sister's  side.      He 


A   HOPELESS  CASE.  2/3 

had  on  his  invariable  evening-dress,  and  looked 
as  majestically  handsome  as  usual. 

"  Well,  Rivington,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy,  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  "  she  is  gone,  is  n't  she  "i  I  can 
hardly  realize  it." 

Rivington  appeared  to  muse  while  he  pre- 
pared a  cigarette.  "  By  Jove,  neither  can  I," 
he  at  length  said.  "  It 's  very  extraordinary. 
People  rather  took  her  up,  did  n't  they  .'* " 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  staring  into  the  fire.  "  No, 
Rivington  ;  she  took  them  up." 

"  How  is  that,  Augusta  t " 

"  Oh,  nothing." 

**She  was  certainly  a  very  nice  girl  in  her 
way,"  resumed  Rivington,  after  a  pause.  "  I 
thought  she  was  going  to  bother  us,  at  first. 
You  did,  too.  You  looked  upon  her  as  a  hope- 
less case." 

Mrs.  Leroy  was  still  staring  into  the  fire. 
She  shook  her  head  very  emphatically,  smiling 
with  an  almost  sardonic  bitterness.     "  Oh,  she 


2/4  ^   HOPELESS  CASE. 

was  certainly  a  hopeless  case,"  said  Riving- 
ton's  sister.     "  I  think  that  still." 

"  But  she  got  along  so  finely  afterward," 
continued  Rivington,  in  his  rich,  well-bred 
voice.  "  The  idea  of  throwing  away  such 
splendid  chances  as  we  gave  her !  .  .  .  I  can't 
make  it  out  at  all.  ...  I  thought  she  was 
rather  fond  of  you,  too,  Augusta.     I "  .  .  . 

*'Fond  of  me!"  cried  Mrs.  Leroy,  starting 
up  from  her  seat.     "  She  despised  me  !  " 

Rivington  now  slowly  rose.  He  looked  ex- 
cessively astonished.  His  sister  had  begun  to 
pace  the  room  in  a  restless,  impetuous  way. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Augusta,"  he  presently 
said,  "I  should  think /<??/  might  afford  to  stand 
her  contempt." 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  suddenly  and  faced  him. 
She  seemed  wretchedly  overcome.  There  was 
more  distress  than  anger  in  her  look.  "  Oh, 
Rivington,"  she  cried  again,  "  I  am  fond  of 
that  girl  —  I  can't  help  it — I  miss  her  already 
—  / —  /  loved  her  !  " 


A   HOPELESS   CASE. 


"/  :> 


The  next  moment  Mrs.  Leroy  had  thrown 
herself  into  a  chair  and  covered  her  face.  She 
had  begun  to  sob  with  actual  violence.  Riv- 
ington  stood  and  watched  her,  utterly  bewil- 
dered. 


END. 


janm^^'  ^^ 


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